


Ealdor

by dante0220



Series: Divides Crossed [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Apologies, Class Differences, F/M, Gen, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-06 18:19:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12823329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dante0220/pseuds/dante0220
Summary: With no other place to go, Merlin guides Arthur and the others to Ealdor.  Mithian and her search party follow soon after.  In the midst of Morgana's plans in Camelot, can they resolve their issues?  Will Arthur and Gwen forgive each other?  Can Merlin accept that he can love in addition to doing his duty?  Can Gawain confront his real feelings?  Will Mithian be able to tell Merlin how she feels?  Can the group establish a solid foundation to build a counter effort against Morgana and the Southrons?  Please r &  r!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Merlin and his cohorts (this version at least) belong to the BBC and Scyfy. Blancheflor is from Chretien de Troyes' Perceval. Ywain and Malodius is from Chretien's Yvain Knight of the Lion. Britomart is from the Faerie Queene.

Preface

_The Triple Goddess observes….._

_A fierce storm rages across Britannia. Change and Conservatism oppose each other. Usually they work together to maintain the Balance. Kings rule in coordination with my priestesses. Scepter and staff coordinate to preserve Life’s rhythms. Calm minds and pleasant dispositions ensure this would be so._

_At least that was my intent….._

_Alas! Mortals misuse their free will. Ambition and Prejudice slant their views. Anger and Vengeance blind them to what might be. Agenda and Presumption propel them toward plans ill conceived. Where Cooperation had held sway, Power snuffs out Good Will._

_Bitterness stirs several of the actors on my stage. Uther Pendragon failed to listen to Nimue’s advisory. Arthur lost both parents to ill-conceived magical aims. Morgana endured her father’s hate and Merlin’s betrayal of their friendship. Still other petty warlords overreach their borders stirring Chaos in their wake._

_My agents toil to balance their will with Duty to me. Merlin has to serve as a double agent of sorts between magic and his master. My high priestess, Freya, struggles with her feelings for Merlin and her role. Merlin and Gawain each mask their internal conflicts. All strive to balance Love with Duty._

_Without a single aim, Britannia veers on the razor’s edge….._

_Something needs to be done._

Despite the growing storm, a foundation must be established. Connections must be tied. As such, I have removed certain parties from the conflict. On the frontier, crucial wounds can be healed. Pain must be soothed. Apologies must be exchanged. 

Amor may yet win the day. The future depends on it……


	2. Camelot Party's Arrival in Ealdor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Merlin and the Camelot refugees arrive, Hunith discovers their plight....

Chapter 1 [Ealdor—A Quarter Turn of the Hourglass After “Chase”]

As on most days, the quiet hamlet gently shook off its doldrums. Day’s light pushed back Nocturne’s darkness for another day. Light’s ribbons across the early sky drowned out the stars. The breeze lost most of its edge. The cows and pigs stirred in their pens. Hunger pushed them upright.

The citizenry anticipated another normal day. Like most, _Sol’s_ track across the sky meant their own routine continued for the most part. Rooster’s crow woke them. Perhaps they mouthed a small piece of bread or some gruel. They chased the meal with some water. Chores awaited. Perhaps a fence needed mending. The animals would need feeding before the coming culling out. Crops waited for harvest. Haying would start soon. All challenges looming before the village proper.

Yes the day seemed at first like any other. Visitors, however, tended to stir things up.

And the groups descending on the hamlet would do exactly that….

 

****

 

Hunith sipped the cool water from her chipped wooden cup. She gazed out the window toward the east. She inhaled deeply of the fresh country air. She knew there’d be haying to do in the fields along with her neighbors. She heard the cows baying and the pigs from Walter’s pen next door. Her heart understood why one never became attached to animals. They served a purpose no more, no less. 

_Duty._

_The seasons move as they should. We’ll have enough to make it through the winter if we’re careful. Juliana and Edwin will make a fine couple. Their parents should be proud. Cedric’s men actually spared us somewhat this time around. So why am I worried?_ She paced listlessly around her small hovel. Having known little else, she didn’t complain about the blanket on the dirt floor and another rolled blanket under her head. Purpose steeled her and the other village elders to provide an example for those who followed. Granted Life wasn’t a feather bed or a plot of roses but what was in the village. Knowing this, she understood that all was as it should be.

Yet she worried.

Instinct guided her across the space from window to door. Her eyes drifted toward the mountains. Her mind and heart bounded them for what lay to the southwest of them. Memoria stirred images of Camelot’s granite structures and bustling markets. She recalled the citadel’s majesty. She could still feel the royal household’s energy. And she could see a certain servant weaving and ducking his way through that hive on behalf of its King and Queen.

That servant was her special boy. Her secret sorcerer. Merlin….

_Even if there’s been no word, I know something’s wrong._ She set her jaw and emptied her cup. She knew Labor required every bit of the day’s effort. Still she hesitated; her maternal instincts telling her to wait.

Her ears detected a note of alarm from the woods beyond the fields.

“Now what?” Hunith hustled into the hovel. She exchanged cup for distaff. While she couldn’t be sure, she knew that she should be ready in case of a threat. _Best to show readiness but be polite. No telling if it be raiders._ She gulped but emboldened herself. She stepped out the door once more. The approaching sight nearly stopped her heart. “Gaius?”

Gaius waved to her. He ambled on a walking stick; his pace slightly favoring his right leg. Concern clearly sagged his eyes and mouth. He glanced back toward Merlin. “You see? Almost there.”

“Yes.” Merlin’s mouth tugged ever so slightly into a smile. His heart lightened a bit at the sights and smells of home. Euphoria numbed Pain’s hold for a brief few heartbeats. He chuckled. “Thank you, Percival. I’ve got it.”

Percival glanced at Merlin. Then he looked to Gaius who nodded. “Take it slowly then.”

Merlin nodded. Despite the dragons’ healing spell, the _Cath’s_ handiwork stung and burned. He limped rather dramatically. He fought to keep the grimace off of his face.

Hunith gasped. She dropped the distaff and rushed to her son’s side. “Merlin! What happened? What did you do?”

“He tried to be a knight. Rash fool could’ve got himself killed,” Arthur interjected. He struggled to maintain his balance. Instinct demanded he walk on the front hooves as well. 

Merlin shook his head. “Just another long trip. Nothing some time with you won’t fix.” He staggered a few steps and embraced her. “It’s great to see you.”

Granted Elation sent her heart soaring as well. Joy washed over her from the embrace. Still, like every other mother, she saw right through the act. “Let’s get you inside. You need to rest. Gaius needs to treat you.” _What did he try to deal with now? Merlin, you’re going to get yourself killed one day! Then what will I do?_ She bit her lip.

“Mother….”

“Merlin, no buts! You’re resting and that’s final,” she insisted; her tone clearly telling him she’d brook no argument. “And that goes for the rest of you as well!” She cleared her throat. “Follow me.” She snaked her arm under Merlin’s left one and around his shoulders. She led him inside. She noted his situation. Worry blossomed inside of her heart. “Please lie down.” 

“I’ll be fine. I’ll…..” Merlin forced himself to sit down on the ground. Exhaustion weighed on his limbs. 

“Merlin, you heard your mother. You need rest,” Gaius insisted. He grabbed a blanket from the room’s corner and spread it out next to the Warlock. Then he rolled another and set it at the near end. “Now roll onto it and close your eyes.”

“Gaius, Arthur and Gawain could use it more. You need rest. I have to help.” Merlin pushed himself back into a sitting position.

“Merlin, for once, do what you’re told. Close your eyes. We’ll need you soon enough,” Arthur insisted.

Merlin wanted to fire a barb back at his King. Effort eluded him. His arms gave out. He slumped back onto the blankets. “Okay…for…little while.” He closed his eyes.

Hunith frowned. She glanced at Gaius. _I sent him to you to be safe. Every time I see him, Danger’s right there with you all. Why?_

Gaius exhaled deeply. Even if he wasn’t telepathic or empathic as Merlin or Mithian were, he could read her facial expression and body language. “We couldn’t foresee what happened, Hunith. I’m sorry.”

“It ain’t like Merlin’s just a choir boy or some monk. Frankly….” Gawain started.

“And what do you mean by that?” She faced the hooded knight. “The least you and King Arthur can do is remove your hoods.”

“Uh uh. Pardon me, Dear Lady, but that ain’t happening. HEE HAW! That wench, Morgana, spelled us. I’m not letting anyone see this! HEE HAW!!,” Gawain disagreed. 

“HAW!! Gawain, do it,” Arthur insisted. He pushed his hood back allowing everyone to see the grey ears sticking up through the nun’s headdress. His hair had turned grey. The grey hair had covered his face as well. 

Percival yanked Gawain’s hood back. “You do know it suits you. Right?” he teased.

Gawain’s eyes narrowed at the hulking knight. “Just….HAW! Just keep it up, Percy.” He tapped the hoof on the table.

“Morgana did this?” Hunith considered Arthur and Gawain’s appearance. Then she glanced again at Merlin on the floor. “She has magic?”

Arthur hung his hand. Dejection weighed on his mood. “Unfortunately, Hunith, it infected her. Her sister, Morgause, further warped her mind with that.”

She turned her back. Indignation flared within herself. _Merlin serves him. Yet he won’t see how useful magic can be. Certainly it’s caused damage but so does any skill or weapon! What happened to Morgana? She seemed so nice before!_ She forced herself to deal with the current situation. “So are you hungry? I don’t have much but….”

“That’s very kind but….” Arthur started to decline.

“Perhaps, Sire, Percival and I can fetch some water from the well?” Gaius suggested. “Given your situation, I wouldn’t recommend trying to pick up a bucket at the moment.”

“Yes. There is…that,” Arthur relented. “Gawain can stay…HEE HAW!...here too.”

“Kick a fellow when…HEE HAW…he’s down already!” Gawain snapped back. He slumped into the corner.

_Now what do they do? Can Merlin help?_ She glanced toward her slumbering son and wondered what to do next.


	3. Ladies' Musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen, Britomart and Mithian all ponder their respective situations....

Chapter 2 [One Turn of the Hourglass Later]

 

Gwen looked around into the misty backdrop. Dejection and Fear undermined her resolve. She worried how Arthur and the others would react to her presence. Concern lessened those feelings. Still she could not bear Arthur’s scorn yet again.

_Arthur…._

_Certainly he should understand that Morgana manipulated us! That bracelet enchanted me. I would *never* have cheated on him like that. Lancelot wouldn’t come between Arthur and me if he had been in his right mind._ She wiped Lament’s tear from her cheek. A heartfelt sigh escaped her lips. _You can face him. He needs to understand! We need a united front against Morgana!_ She shook her head.

“Kerchief, my Lady?”

Gwen nearly jumped. She turned to find Britomart holding up a handkerchief. “Britomart, I didn’t see you there.”

“You seem deep in thought. I wouldn’t presume to intrude. Still you looked as if you might need this,” Britomart explained herself. She extended her arm offering the cloth to her companion. 

“Thank you. You shouldn’t call me ‘Lady’. I’m no noble.” Gwen accepted the handkerchief. She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m a servant just as you are. We’re equals.”

Britomart smiled at the sentiment. Expectation raised her eyebrow. _Certainly Arthur Pendragon should see this woman’s merit! How could he push her away? Of all of the stupid…._ She ground her teeth. “You will be Queen of Camelot yet, Guinevere. Princess Mithian will talk sense into King Arthur’s head. You’ll see.”

Gwen shrugged. “I can hope. Morgana’s whole strategy has caused us all enough pain. I appreciate Princess Mithian’s assistance. Blancheflor made our meeting possible. And you…well…”

Britomart stiffened not sure of what to expect out of her next words. “What about me? Forgive me but…”

“You’re more than just a mere servant. No wonder Princess Mithian has befriended Merlin. Other than Arthur, no other royal would treat a servant as such,” Gwen complimented. “Thank you for your respect.”

“You put your pain aside for Duty’s sake, Guinevere. After what you’ve suffered, many would have hidden away from the world. You brush that off. There is much to admire,” Britomart replied. “It gives me hope after my encounters with Camelot.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes. Confusion fogged her understanding. “Your encounters? I don’t understand.”

Britomart sighed. “I heard stories about Camelot’s greatness growing up. Sadly Reality doesn’t seem to measure up. Nemeth’s hopes pinned on a match between King Arthur and my Lady. He courted her, led her on and then rejected her. Then Merlin went above and beyond to return Princess Mithian’s necklace. What happens? He’s jailed, tried and nearly executed! If Sir Gawain hadn’t stuck his fool head out and kept the door open, who knows what would happened?” She frowned.

“Who knows indeed? I am sorry that Princess Mithian was rejected. Morgana’s schemes hurt us all. We all are caught in that net,” Gwen apologized.

“It wasn’t your fault. Arthur is being a prat. No more, no less!” Britomart shook her head. “It is a wondrous thing. The nobles act like stuffed arses. Yet servants such as Merlin and yourself rise up and prove yourselves.”

“As you do. Take pride. Anyone who’d cross swords with the Knights of Camelot deserves such respect. That is no easy task,” Gwen noted.

Britomart blushed. “For my Lady’s and Merlin’s sakes, I did my part. Besides that cabbage headed oaf was outnumbered.” Embarrassment clammed further response up in her mouth.

Gwen nodded. Realization offered her a bit of insight. “It seems Merlin and I aren’t alone. Are we?”

Britomart narrowed her eyes. “What? You think I _actually_ stormed the ramparts because of that clod pole? _Seriously?_ ” She averted her eyes. Scarlet colored her cheeks in equal hue to her hair.

Gwen coughed. She determined not to push the point further. Still she recognized the signs. _Gawain has a fan. She’s in love. What will he think?_ “We all have our reasons. You did a great thing. That’s what counts.”

Britomart nodded and turned her face back toward the route into Ealdor. She had a great deal to consider. That was for sure…..

 

****

 

Mithian rode at the contingent’s head. Instinct urged her eyes to survey the meadow around them. Her eyes turned toward the woods’ edge just at the grasses’ edge. She felt torn whether to check the tree line in case Merlin and the others were still suffering there or to press on. _That priestess said they’d be in Ealdor. Certainly Merlin’s neighbors and his mother will see to his care. Have faith, Mithian. The refugees will be well received. Malodius wouldn’t let anything happen._ She snapped out of it. The lion’s name in her thoughts sprang her mind back to attention. _He can hear me!_ She looked about the area. _Malodius?_ she called out.

_Yes, Princess? Malodius_ responded. _I feel your presence. Where are you?_

_Priestess Ninane brought us to the valley’s edge. We ride toward Ealdor. Where are you?_ she asked.

_I am in the woods west of the hamlet. I have found it wise to conceal my presence at least until night fall. I would not frighten the inhabitants without cause. All is well. I sense that Merlin rests there, Malodius_ reported.

The mention of Merlin stirred her mind. Imagination frothed into a frenzy. Her heart beat faster. _Is he all right? That thing hurt him._

_The dragons healed him. Beyond that, he needs rest. So do King Arthur and our friends. So do you, Princess, and the others, Malodius_ informed her.

_When I know Arthur and the others are all right then I will stand down. Meantime I guide our forces toward there. I will send Sir Ywain to you. You should not be alone in your watch,_ she rebutted.

_I appreciate your concern, Princess. Thank you. I await his coming. Have faith._ With that, _Malodius_ went silent.

_Have faith he says! How can I when I worry so?_ Mithian pondered the balance. On the one hand, the others looked to her for support and leadership. On the other, Concern remained a normal human priority. She looked toward Sir Ywain. “Sir Ywain?”

“Aye, Princess?” Ywain rode his grey steed toward her. “What might I do?”

Mithian pointed toward the woods. “Perhaps you might Sir Belvidere and survey the woods? From what Priestess Ninane told me, _Malodius_ keeps watch on the village from there. He could use some support. Stay there until nightfall. Then join us in the village.” 

Ywain nodded. “It shall be done.” He motioned to Belvidere. “Sir Belvidere! You’re with me!” He galloped toward the western forest’s edge and his friend.

“Milady?” Galahad asked.

“I wanted a survey of the woods. We’ve had enough surprises for one day. I’m sure you’d agree?” Mithian supposed. She understood that Galahad wasn’t questioning her methods. Still she really wasn’t in the mood for even friendly second guessing. The crisis slid further out of hand with each turn of the hourglass. Her heart sank with Merlin’s pain. She wanted to do something. She firmly looked at Galahad. Then she spurred her horse and galloped off toward the village.

Galahad watched Ywain and Belvidere disappear into the trees beyond. Surprise and Admiration brightened his mood. When Rodor had assigned the knights to the expedition, Galahad had expected to tutor and instruct Mithian on strategy. He anticipated a rash girl charging at every shadow treating it like a hunt rather than a serious purpose. Instead he found himself impressed with her caution and discretion. Strategy guided her rather than Rashness. “Follow, All! To Ealdor!” He took off in pursuit of the Princess.

The others picked their own pace up. Urgency had increased its siren call, it seemed…..


	4. Love's Attempt to Break Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blancheflor and Gwen impress on their guys the importance of love. And Mithian meets Hunith,

Chapter 3 [Hunith’s Hut—A Half Turn of the Hourglass Later]

Percival set the last armful of wood on the woodpile. He’d spent the morning doing odd chores for Hunith rather than wait around for word on the others. He’d repaired some loose shingles on the roof. He’d stacked some firewood. He walked with her to the village’s oven to bake a small loaf of grain bread. He wanted to keep from thinking about everything else. He wanted to forget for a brief time at least about Camelot. He hoped Gaius could think of something to help the others. Even if he didn’t say anything to the others, he missed Blancheflor.

_Blancheflor…._

Lament burned in his heart. Since he’d met Arthur and the other knights, he’d maintained a happy façade. Despite any and all circumstances, he endeavored to smile and have a positive outlook. He supported those around himself. He served even beyond what should have been his normal endurance. If he ached, he did more. If he felt at the end of his rope, he’d climb three hand holds higher.

Because he promised her he would….

He bowed his head. They sent missives back and forth between Camelot and their village. He’d meant to request a leave to make the day’s ride back home. Despite everything, he’d visited with her every day in his thoughts. Often Nightmare disturbed him in his sleep fearing that Meleagant or some other invader would harm or kidnap her. Duty, while compelling him to stay at Arthur’s side, tugged him back to her too.

_She would understand especially under these circumstances! She has to!_ He exhaled sharply. Then he saw his hostess watching expectantly from the door. “Is there something else I can do?”

“Sir Percival, you deserve a break.” Hunith held a cup to his eyes. “Perhaps some water? Then we can fetch the bread?”

He nodded. He accepted the cup and took a single swallow. “Have the others had their share?”

“They have.” Hunith’s mouth sagged into a frown. “Merlin is still asleep. Gaius and I were looking at his wounds. What attacked him? Gaius won’t say.”

“A large demon attacked them. I collected herbs a distance away when I heard them call out. Gawain and King Arthur had their own situation. Still we returned to the camp to help as best we could,” He edited out any mention of Kilgarrah or _Malodius_. He still had trouble believing in such magical creatures’ existence much less helping them all. “I don’t understand how Morgana could have magic and be in Camelot much less use it.”

_I wonder how he’d feel about Merlin? What if he and the others ever realize that he’s a sorcerer as well?_ Irony tempted her to answer just that question. Sense, on the other hand, reminded her to keep that counsel to herself. “Morgana fought hand to hand here. She didn’t have magic the last time.”

“When was that?” He looked at her. Everything he’d heard about the priestess concerned dark magic and sorcery. Very little had reached his ears about Morgana’s early years or the girl she’d been before Morgause’s influence. _What else is there?_ Curiosity prodded him to know more.

“Several winters ago…a decade’s worth of winters, I believe.” She slumped her shoulders. “Morgana was a loyal friend. She and Guinevere volunteered to accompany Merlin here to help us against bandits. Prince…now King Arthur…led that effort. She fought bravely for our village. She helped to sharpen blades and did everything else that could be expected. What a pity. I wish I knew what happened to make her like this.”

“I don’t know, Hunith. I wish I could make it right. It would be better for Camelot,” he told her. He sat down on the woodpile and scratched his head. _All we’ve heard is that magic is evil. Magic is horrible. Yet didn’t that priestess help us on our way? How do we know there aren’t good sorcerers out there?_ He looked at the distaff still leaning by the door from earlier. _Isn’t it like a sword or any other weapon? I have to wonder._

“I wish so too.” She made a mental note to speak to Merlin at some point. Then her ears perked at the sound of approaching riders. “Sir Percival, do you hear….?”

“Aye.” He sprang to his feet and drew his sword. “Stay behind me, Hunith.” His eyes narrowed. His mind shelved the magic debate for the time being. He heard the clopping of running horses. Alerts from villagers reached his ears. “Gawain!”

“The Princess and I…HEE HAW…can’t fight…ERR…HAW,” Gawain replied. He leaned heavily on an oak branch so as to stay upright.

“Princess?” Hunith didn’t get the gist.

Percival rolled his eyes. “He means the King.” He frowned. “Both of you get back inside! I’ll do what I can!” Then he spied the emerald standard with the dark bird flying across its expanse. “Nemeth? What would….?” 

“Nemeth?” Her eyes went wide. “Do they mean to invade?”

“Nay. They are allies.” Percival sheathed his sword. He waved to the approaching riding party. His eyes went wide when he saw the leader. “Princess Mithian? Not that I’m sorry to see you but….” Reverence prompted a quick bow from him.

Mithian nodded. “We heard of Camelot’s peril. I lead this expedition with King Rodor’s blessing. We do not forget our friends, Sir Percival.”

“Excuse me, Lady? You heard in another kingdom? How would you….?” Hunith warily looked the riding party over. She clearly noted several knights. Toward the back, she spied a familiar face. “Gwen? Is that you?”

“It is. I discovered Morgana’s plot and found help.” Gwen smiled. She dismounted quickly. “Where’s Arthur?”

“He’s right inside, Gwen.” Percival informed her. He embraced her. “Good to see you.”

“And you, Percival. I think though there’s someone waiting for you though.” Gwen grinned. She motioned toward the riders in back of her. “Without her, I never would have made it to Whitgate.”

“Without her? I….” Percival follow Gwen’s prompting. His eyes widened. He nearly dropped his sword. His heart skipped a beat. “Blancheflor?”

“As Princess Mithian asked, do you think I wouldn’t help? Of course!” Blancheflor insisted. Tears misted in her eyes. “Help me down please?”

“What? Of course!” Percival bowed again to Mithian. “With your pardon.”

Mithian arched an eyebrow. “Go on, Sir Percival. She has waited patiently for you. I would not keep you apart any longer.”

“Thank you!” Percival hustled toward the back of the contingent. His eyes passed over several other knights. Still he only saw his heart’s desire awaiting him. He held his hand out. “I’m ready.”

“So you are,” Blancheflor teased. She grasped the helping hand. Allowing it to guide her, she dismounted from horseback. Within a heartbeat, she found herself within the safe harbor of his arms. Her eyes twinkled at him. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Percival kissed her cheek. “I know it’s been too long. I’m sorry.”

“I told you to do your duty. Gwen told me how busy King Arthur’s kept you and the other knights. I understand,” She touched her forehead to his. “You do yours. I do mine, my Loyal Knight. Life is as we’ve known. I protect Riversmore and insure everything is as it should be. You, by serving King Arthur, insure that all is safe beyond our borders. One day, we will be together.”

“Aye, my Lady.” Percival kissed the back of her hand. “We shall. Come. I can introduce you to the others.” He escorted her back toward the door. “Sir Galahad, welcome!” He clasped arms with the other knight. “Is Sir Ywain with you?”

“Aye. Princess Mithian sent him to scout the woods. I believe his beast keeps watch there,” Galahad reported.

Percival frowned. “If you mean the lion, he killed the cat demon in the woods. Truly we owe him our thanks.”

“We all serve our allies and friends,” Mithian interjected. Her mind wandered. She felt Merlin’s sleeping mind close by. “Speaking of which, where are they, Sir Percival?”

“They’re in there.” Percival motioned with his head toward the open door. “Gaius sees to them. This woman is Hunith. She’s Merlin’s mother.”

Mithian froze. Anxiety flared within her. Despite being the Princess, being in Hunith’s presence prompted Insecurity’s chills and butterflies. She trembled ever so slightly. Still she composed herself. “Thank you for allowing them to stay.”

“It’s my pleasure of course.” Hunith curtseyed in deference to Mithian’s rank. She noted however the latter’s anxious reaction. _What is that about? Certainly this isn’t the first village they’ve been in. She’s dealt with peasants and nobles._ She puzzled over that notion. “Has Merlin provided you with service, Princess?”

“He most certainly did. You should be proud of his accomplishments, Hunith. Very proud indeed.” Mithian smiled. Pride sent her emotions soaring. “Have you seen him? Merlin?”

“He’s…sleeping inside.” Hunith took a second look at Mithian. Under the pomp and pageantry, she could clear see Worry and Fear carving lines into the Princess’ face. She’d heard enough girls speak with such tones to know that Mithian was there for more than just a state visit or support for Arthur. _She cares for him?_ “Gaius tends to him. He had a hard night apparently.”

Mithian cleared her throat to keep herself composed. _I wonder what she’d think if she knew of the connection between Merlin and me?_ “Yes we were told as much. Given the circumstances, we rode here as quickly as we could manage.” She noted the villagers’ frightened and angered looks toward the knights. _Despite the fact that we need them here, this is still Cedric’s territory._ “Sir Galahad, pull our knights back to the forest’s edge. We’re not here to occupy but to offer aid.”

Galahad kept a straight face. He understood her instructions from political and diplomatic viewpoints. As with Mithian, he knew that Cedric longed for an opportunity to create a diplomatic incident. He wished that they’d have the chance to get permission to cross into Essetir. As such, Discretion trumped all other things. Still without the knights there, she’d be vulnerable. “We will camp in the forest just out of view. If you have need, we can be here.”

“Very good. Thank you, Sir Galahad. I don’t want any issues with Cedric. Morgana is proving difficult enough. Hopefully we can resolve this matter soon enough,” Mithian complimented.

Galahad climbed back on his horse. He exchanged anxious looks with Blancheflor and Gwen before riding off toward the south. With a wave of his hand, he led the other knights in that direction.

Gwen tapped on her horse’s saddle. Impatience chafed at her. She allowed her horse to canter over toward Percival and Blancheflor. “Is Arthur in there too?”

Percival squirmed. He could well imagine Arthur’s public protestations to Gwen’s presence (even if he felt the exact opposite). He anticipated her reaction to the King’s appearance. “He is. Gwen, perhaps you might want to take a minute.”

Gwen stiffened. She eyed Percival warily. “And why?”

At that moment, Gawain staggered through the door. Instinct coerced him to try walking on all fours. The nun’s costume pulled at him. In certain places, he’d torn it. 

“You dress a donkey like a Nazarene recluse?” Blancheflor asked.

“Nah. That….HEE HAW…was Merlin’s idea to get by that hag. ERMM! HAW! This rots!” Gawain complained. His hooves clomped.

“Maybe you might think twice before challenging Morgana next time?” Percival suggested.

“Laugh it…HAW…up, Percy. At least this can’t get….HEE HAW…worse,” Gawain retorted. Then he noticed Britomart coughing from horseback. “Great.”

“What did you do now?” Britomart demanded. Exasperation showed clearly across her face. She threw her hands up. She quickly dismounted. “You just had to get that witch angry. Didn’t you?”

“HEY! I wasn’t going….HEE HAW…let her get the last word! Wench cast spell…ERMM…HEE HAW on Arthur and me,” Gawain gasped. By now, forming words increasing hurt his throat and vocal cords. “Ask Gwen. I’m…not lost cause. HEE HAW!”

“Arthur’s like that too?” Gwen panicked. Her eyes went wide. She rushed into the dwelling. She looked around frantically. “Gaius?”

“Gwen! What are you doing here?” Gaius got up from the table. He ambled over to her side. 

“I rode here with Princess Mithian and Nemeth’s knights. Where’s Arthur? And….” Gwen stopped her explanation in its tracks. Her heart dropped in her chest at the sight of the donkey sulking in the corner. As with Gawain, she saw the dark robes still hanging askew about him. “Arthur?”

Arthur’s ears perked through the headdress. He raised his head. “G…Gwen?” He staggered to his hooves nearly tripping on the robes. “That…idiot…HEE HAW…If he weren’t already almost…dead….ERMMM! He drugged me! HAW….Put me in this dress like a girl!” His hooves snagged in the materials sending him sprawling to the ground. Steam fumed from his ears. Embarrassment ate at his ego.

Bewilderment clouded her thinking momentarily. She wondered what to do. “Gawain said Morgana did this to you?”

“Gawain shot his mouth off. HEE HAW! She made…us this! ERMM!” Arthur continued. “Stupid!”

Gwen folded her arms across her chest. Satisfaction blossomed inside of herself. While his pain cut at her heart, she wanted him to understand Humiliation’s sting. However as soon as the urge appeared, Amor doused it rapidly. “Arthur, we’ve all had our moments. I’m sure Merlin had a reason for doing what he did.” 

“You…like this,” Arthur accused.

“Do I like you suffering? Of course not. Maybe you get an idea of how it feels to be exiled and pull a wagon in front of everyone through the countryside? Perhaps. Arthur, do you have any idea what I’ve been through? Do you understand? Morgana is behind all of this! She raised Lancelot from the dead. She enchanted me. Agravaine arranged for me to be caught. She turned you into the donkey. She schemed to push me away and bring Princess Mithian into the picture. She’s wrecking our home! She’s hurting our friends! And all because you are being the idiot now! You, Arthur!” she lectured.

“I do have my reputation and….” Arthur defended.

“It’s not like I freely cuckolded you! I WAS ENCHANTED, ARTHUR! So have you! So have Merlin and Gaius! Please!” Tears shimmered in her eyes. Woe’s streams ran down her cheeks. “I LOVE YOU!” Before he could protest, she pressed her lips against his mouth. She ignored the bad smell and taste. She pressed the kiss there. She poured Love’s favor into him. 

A brilliant white glow surrounded him. He shuddered and spasmed. Stings like those of an angry hive of bees pricked his skin and burned. His throat loosened. His fingers spread and moved of their own individual accord. His hair reverted to its normal blonde shade and receded toward its normal length.

Wonder raised questions in her mind. She didn’t understand how she’d prompted such a transformation. Needless to say, she didn’t care. Her King was back to normal. “Arthur!”

“I’m back.” He stood slowly allowing his legs to regain their balance. He stretched his arms and torso. “Hopefully someone has some real clothes for me?”

“Perhaps. I think you make an interesting recluse,” she teased. 

He bowed his head. He recalled expressing that very sentiment in his chambers after the failed engagement. “The court and kingdom would never allow me that luxury, I fear.” He considered her in the flickering candlelight anew. He beheld Hope’s gentle light beckoning him forth toward her embrace. His ears caught her breath catching in her throat. He knew he’d previously decided her fate and their situation. _You should walk away. You must do your duty. She cheated on you. She…._

Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

Love versus Duty…

Man versus King….

“Please….” she pleaded.

Instinct swept away Plan. Amor overwhelmed Restraint. Desire propelled him forward.

They locked glances. Their hearts pined for each other. Anticipation itched through their mouths. Without further thought, they embraced. Their mouths pressed down on each other. Much as with monsoon across a parched landscape, they felt revitalized. They felt whole. For several heartbeats, they lingered in Aphrodite’s oasis.

She smiled. The previous months’ ordeal seemed so far away. She had everything she desired in that room. Nothing else mattered. He was everything to her. She knew the others were watching. Frankly she didn’t care.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes…well…that was a thank you.” Yes he wanted her. Duty, however, reasserted itself.

“A thank you? Arthur, I….” Gwen turned. Rejection filled her eyes with tears again. Without looking either left or right, she ran from the area and down the dirt path toward the field beyond the village.

Arthur sighed. He ran his hands through his hair. Once again it seemed, his priorities seemed to conflict with one another.

And it wasn’t about to get any easier either……


	5. Tongue Lashings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets lectured. Merlin has to deal with things....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's about to get lectured. Oh and don't treat Merlin like an idiot (or call him that) in front of Mithian. You've been advised....

Chapter 4

“Sire? What happened?” Gaius scrutinized Arthur. He didn’t believe that Gwen should have been able to reverse Morgana’s spell on her own. _Was that woman who helped us involved? Curious!_

“It seems that Gwen had the cure all along.” The King glanced toward the door. Lament dampened his spirits. “Pity.”

“Arthur, go after her,” Mithian urged. 

“Princess Mithian, please, this is a Camelot matter. Even if you are Nemeth ambassador, there are certain protocols…” Arthur started.

Rage flared up inside of Mithian. She stiffened like an angry cat. Her lips pursed as if she’d bitten into an extremely sour apple. “Don’t you dare brush me aside on that, Arthur Pendragon! You have no right to do so!”

“We’re not in Nemeth, Princess. Don’t order me. I’ve compensated you,” Arthur insisted. His eyes narrowed.

“Compensated me? Oh yes! The Gedref was a consolation. King Rodor and I both appreciated your gesture. Still you humiliated me in front of the Five Kingdoms! And for what? For love. For love of nobody…a blacksmith’s daughter! Well I endured that. I was so distraught that I almost lost Queen Taene’s necklace. Despite Gedref, you almost had a war, Arthur! If not for the so-called Idiot as you like to call him, you would have had it!” Mithian pointed at Merlin. “At least he gave me a chance! He saved our diplomatic relations, Arthur! Not your ministers! Certainly not that snake, Agravaine! NO! It was Merlin who left the door open! That’s why Nemeth risked a war to stop that farce of a trial! You would’ve hanged him for doing so!” She sniggered. She exhaled to calm herself. “But still I fumed. Still I hated that blacksmith’s daughter. But when I met Gwen, you do know that I found myself liking her? I want to be her friend! I’m glad that despite everything, I vowed to bring her back to you. Well I fulfilled my promise. I kept my word unlike certain other _former_ monarchs.”

Arthur bowed his head. He realized her point. He understood that Mithian didn’t have to be there. She and Rodor could have made peace with Morgana. Perhaps with some tribute, they’d buy a measure of peace. Still they didn’t do that. They gambled on the future. Duty to the Greater Good coerced her to that point. Once again, the loss of his throne grated on him. “I suppose this is the favor?”

“No, Arthur.” Mithian modulated her voice. “At least not for you. Rather it is a favor to Merlin, Sir Gawain and Lady Blancheflor. For you, it is an order. Morgana manipulated us all. If you want to speak of honor, Arthur, then why should I help you take Camelot back? Morgana is a Pendragon as well. She has a claim. She wants the Old Religion reestablished. My father would certainly agree to allow that at least. We, unlike your father and you, have no issue with magic as long as people live peaceably within Nemeth. Think on that, Arthur! Think hard. It is the price for our aid. It is a royal order to you. It is what’s right.” She pointed out the door. “Do it. _Now!_ ” 

Silence stifled the room. Gaius, Hunith, Percival and Blancheflor looked to one another. They glanced at the still sleeping Merlin. (How someone could still do so through that lecture was beyond anyone there.) They didn’t understand how Arthur could take that without reply. 

“Princess, I’m sorry but…” Percival interceded.

“No, Percival. Princess Mithian’s right. Please. I know you’re obligated to intervene. I’m asking you not to do so,” Blancheflor requested. She put her hand on top of his. 

“Blancheflor, I have to say something,” Percival disagreed.

“And you’ve done so. Nobody would question your loyalty, Percival. If Arthur Pendragon wishes to do so, he’ll deal with me next. We’ve been apart for over a year. I never questioned your service. I encourage it. Still he needs to understand how much people sacrifice for him. How much have Merlin, the Princess, you or I sacrificed for Camelot? We’re all apart from loved ones. Yes it is the right thing to do. Still such things should be respected,” Blancheflor clarified. “I left our village and duchy to see Gwen to Whitgate and then here. I wouldn’t see you like this, my Love. I won’t allow the Greater Good to fall by the wayside either.” She turned toward Arthur. “If you don’t wish to listen to Princess Mithian, then listen to me. Gwen loves you. Shame burns at her. She cries herself to sleep every night without you. How can you inflict that on her? It wasn’t her fault! Make it right, Arthur Pendragon. You take her back. Make her your wife as she should be. Be a man instead of a boy. Excuse me I need some air.” She stormed from the area.

“Arthur, I should….” Percival motioned for the door.

“Go. Thank you, Percival.” Arthur stung from the lectures. He looked to each of the people around himself. He tried to value their contributions. He went into battle for them. He sacrificed. He cared, didn’t he? “I need some air.” He walked briskly from the dwelling.

Hunith rubbed her forehead. “Princess, was that really necessary? Arthur does respect Merlin. He cares.”

Mithian inhaled a composing breath. “I know Arthur looks to Merlin for advice and support. He speaks of equality. Still he goes back on that when it suits him. He agreed on our engagement and cast it aside for Gwen. Gwen explained their situation to him. She apologized. He doesn’t care!” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe Arthur would’ve let Merlin hang.”

“I doubt that, Princess,” Gaius disagreed. “Perhaps Arthur would’ve banished him at worst. I have to hope as much.”

“Perhaps, Master Gaius. I would hope you are right,” Mithian relented. She sat down next to the sleeping Warlock. She brushed a few stray hairs back into place. “Merlin does so much. He should have been ennobled and knighted years ago.”

Hunith exchanged looks with Gaius. “Is she right?”

Gaius arched the Eyebrow. “The laws of Camelot say that three deeds are enough. The problem is Arthur relies on Merlin. Besides can Merlin take that kind of scrutiny? As a knight, he would have to be far more open with people than he is now.”

“You mean with his magic? Honestly!” Mithian looked the elderly physician over. “You rely on him too. Arthur says he wants change. Part of that change is to open Camelot to all. Merlin shouldn’t have to live in hiding. He shouldn’t have to feel dependent on people anymore.”

“You know?” Gaius stared at her. 

“Yes. I know. I found out when he saved my life. His instincts are good. There are so many ways he can fulfill that prophecy. He can still be Arthur’s brother in arms! Arthur can get another servant,” Mithian revealed. 

“But you care about him. Don’t you?” Gaius asked. He heard her tone rise. Her defensiveness lay clearly on her face. “You want him for yourself?”

“I do. I won’t lie about that. Still I won’t force anything. I could demand that Arthur give him up. I won’t. You might have the same consideration, Master Gaius. Are you holding him back because you’re protecting him or dependent on him? Why should Hunith have to live like this? She and Merlin both deserve so much more.”

“You don’t know him at all, I fear.” Gaius shook his head. “He’d rather have this simple hovel than an elaborate castle.”

“I know. I just want him to be treated equally. If you all go along with that, then go along with it for everyone,” Mithian insisted. “Merlin’s proved himself. Arthur needs to raise him up accordingly. You need to let him go accordingly. He’s not a boy much as you look at him that way.” She leaned over his prone form. _Merlin, can you hear me? Wake up._

_Mithian?_ Merlin answered telepathically. _What’s happening? Everything feels jumbled. I hurt. I…._

_We’re having issues and differences of opinion. Can you open your eyes? Your mother, Master Gaius and I would like that now,_ Mithian requested. Her lips brushed his forehead. _I love you._

_I love you,_ Merlin relaxed. His breathing increased. Slowly his eyes opened. “Princess?”

“Just take it slow. You’re still dealing with your injuries,” Gaius instructed.

“Yes, Merlin. You gave us quite a scare,” Mithian admonished albeit playfully. “We’re in Ealdor. Your mother seems very nice.” She smiled. “You just had to take on that cat demon by yourself.”

“Kind of my thing. Have to protect Arthur. Gaius, we’ve got to turn him back to normal,” Merlin replied. He slowly sat up. His nose took in the familiar scents of hay, barley and cows. He looked around at the familiar surroundings. “Mother?”

“I’m here.” Hunith embraced him. “When are you going to stop trying to take on every demon by yourself? You aren’t alone in this.”

“Mother,” Merlin protested. “You know I have to protect Arthur.”

“And you have allies. Who do you think requested help for you?” Mithian smirked triumphantly. Her eyebrow arched. Her eyes twinkled at him. “This time we had to save Gaius and you both.”

“Gaius? What happened? I remember the _Cath_ hitting me but….” Merlin asked.

“ _Cath_ hit you? Merlin!” Hunith chastised. She glared at Gaius. “I sent him to Camelot to keep him safe! Honestly!”

Gaius coughed. “I shouldn’t have tell you how he runs toward danger. I gave up trying to stop him in that regard. The only thing now is to preserve his Secret. As Princess Mithian just pointed out, there’s that constant threat of execution over his head. Arthur won’t change the laws. He thinks magic is evil.”

Hunith nodded. In her mind’s eye, she saw Will’s body burning on the pyre years earlier. Her heart sank that Merlin’s best friend had to die to save her precious son. She heard Arthur denounce magic once again. It’s miraculous that Merlin has accomplished what he has! “It isn’t fair. Merlin works so hard but can’t be upfront?”

“Mother, I have to look after Arthur. I’m supposed to protect him,” Merlin reminded her. “Besides have you seen how the Prat is without me? He can’t even get dressed or polish his armor. Him get along without me? Yeah right. Can I have some water please?”

“There’s that chap, George. He’s eager enough. Granted he’s an absolute bore but he’s very good at what he does,” Mithian suggested.

“George?” Merlin laughed. Then he grabbed at his side. “Ow! That makes my side hurt.” He winced as she batted him in the ear. “What was that for?”

“For laughing at my insight. Merlin, I’m serious! I know you two are close. I understand that you are supposed to protect him. But there are other ways! Merlin, you shouldn’t have to conceal who you are. You’ve earned that much! You work so hard. You give so much. Your heart is so good even if you put those blinders on some times. You can live in a place where magic is accepted. You can still be Arthur’s ally and brother-in-arms. If needed, you can be in Camelot in the blink of an eye. Kilgarrah, I’m sure, would be willing to help for a favor every now and again.”

“Kilgarrah?” Hunith interrupted.

“The Great Dragon. He survived the Purge. Merlin inherited the bond and the dragon lord’s mantle from Balinor,” Gaius clarified. The Eyebrow arched. “Princess, you’re missing a crucial point. Merlin is not a free man. He can’t make that decision.”

“Sometimes I wish I could.” Merlin looked to Mithian. “You say I can?”

“By Camelot’s own law, you can. Arthur should have made you a noble and knighted you years ago! In Nemeth, you’d be accepted now. Your mother would have a better opportunity should she desire it. You can still serve the Greater Good! In time, Father would grant you a place at court. You’re not that far from that point,” Mithian elaborated. “I’m not asking you to stop serving others. I wouldn’t come between Arthur and you. I’m just asking you to consider your own needs and those around you! Think what you can do for those like yourself. That’s all I want you to think about, Merlin.” She rubbed his arm. “Arthur likes you but he takes you for granted. I know you’re special.” She took the empty bucket. “I’ll fetch water. Be right back.” She walked out the door and toward the village center.

Hunith stopped. Incredulity slackened her jaw. Other than Arthur himself, she’d never saw a noble who’d volunteer for such tasks. She’d never heard anyone offer Merlin such things. She never dared believe they could aspire to those things. _Could she be right? Could Merlin be freed and be his own man?_ Her head spun with the possibilities.

Merlin himself felt torn. Duty and Service compelled him to stay as he was. Despite putting up with Arthur’s attitude and the social class differences, he enjoyed his life at Camelot. Still Possibility beckoned with an attractive and enticing picture. Maybe he wouldn’t be at Arthur’s side but he’d still be relatively close by. As a free man and knight, he’d be able to openly fight and, more importantly, protect Arthur with his magic. Perhaps Rodor would listen to his daughter. They were more lenient toward sorcery in Nemeth. Besides Mithian loved him. It wasn’t just hot air. Her feelings moved him through their shared link. He genuinely felt a warmth and connection too. He hadn’t felt this way since Freya. _Can it work? Could I be with her and in Nemeth? So much to think about! Too bad I can’t just accept and put this all in place now. Maybe then I could get Morgana to stop!_ He shook his head and slowly stood up. He let his knees and joints ease into place. 

“Merlin, you should lie down,” Gaius urged.

“I’m not going to work. I just need to think. I’m going to check on Will. Be back,” Merlin kissed his mother on the cheek. “It’s good to be back here, Mother.” He slowly walked out the door.

“I wish he’d get someone to go with him,” Gaius lamented.

“Merlin needs to work this out for himself,” Hunith disagreed. She sighed. _So many possibilities! What can he do in the midst of this strife?_

Time would tell….


	6. Gawain's Quandary in the Meadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gawain runs into more issues with his state of affairs. Britomart tries to help him. Wait and see what happens....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story rating is going up to M due to Gawain's state of affairs. Read on and see.....

Chapter 5

Gawain wandered through the meadows beyond the village. Disgust and Impatience riled him. He brooded over the general state of affairs. Granted Hunith seemed really great. He appreciated her hospitality. The Nemeth contingent supported him and the other Camelot refugees. No those things were great.

Everything else, it seemed, flat out stank worse than manure on a midsummer’s day. Arthur acted as much the ass as they both appeared to be toward Gwen. Merlin continued to sleep off his injuries. Gaius didn’t have a cure. Mithian struggled to maintain that royal pose even if her feelings for Merlin leaked through her usual royal façade. Percival seemed almost whipped by Blancheflor. He stumbled on the nun’s gown again. “Bloody…ERMM…thing!” He swiped a dark hoof against the muddy turf. His snout twitched from the usual allergies. Worse still, the peasants stared at him. 

Like this whole mess was his fault? Blame Merlin for his oh-so-smart idea and Morgana for the spell. He was just defending Arthur and standing up to her. _Those two are as bad as one another. She doesn’t want to deal with Arthur and just being laid back. He won’t deal with magic and the old religion. What a load of crap! If they could work out a peace. Bet Mith could do it. She’s got a good head on her. She even wants Merlin._ He snorted. _Right. Like Arthur will let Merlin go? HA!_ He swished his tail and took out an irritating fly. _Least I can do that!_

Hunger burned at his stomach.

_Figures that I can’t walk into a tavern like this!_ He narrowed his eyes. _I really have to eat hay? Great._ He munched on the yellowed grasses. He grimaced at the lack of taste in the straw and swallowed. _No wonder donkeys are asses!_ He sniffed the ground and grazed some more. _Can’t believe I have to do this!_ Indignation burned at him. The dried grass held no taste and choked his throat.

The cows grazing nearby glared at him. Clearly they regarded him as a squatter in their pasture.

_Yeah just deal with it! Dumb cow. I don’t even like milk! Go spit!_ Gawain munched another mouthful of grass. _So how do I break this bloody spell anyhow? Like this can get any worse?_ He stalked away from the other animals. He edged against a tree. The branches pulled the offending head covering off and tore what remained of the dress away. “That’s gone…HEE HAW!" He spat out the next mouthful of grass.

“Sir Gawain!”

_What I said before…._ He turned to find Britomart leaning against the tree behind him. “Sp…ying, are we? HEE HAW!”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She rolled her eyes. “You play the part so well.”

“Hey! What’s….ERMM…that mean?” he protested. His eyes narrowed. His ears stood straight up. “Got to eat this crap. Nothin’ to…HEE HAW…drink.”

Rather than allow Satisfaction its next gibe, she gave into Pity’s request. She dismounted from her horse. She grabbed her water skin and walked over to him. “You can ask.” 

“Bet that’s water. Figures.” He rolled his eyes wanting something intoxicating.

“Yes it’s water. As if I could cart a cask out here? Quit thinking like a prat! That’s what got you into this mess.” She exhaled fighting to allow Patience its foothold in her head. She wanted to point out that he acted as much the ass at times as he now appeared. “Hold still.” She approached him cautiously. She wasn’t sure if he’d run off or try to kick her. She held up the water skin and tipped it to his snout. “Try to get some of this down. It isn’t carrot juice but….”

The water refreshed his dry and parched throat. It washed down the grass still sticking to his throat. He cleared his throat. “Sure…ERMM…kick a guy.”

“I wasn’t! Stop that!” Embarrassment flushed her cheeks. She sighed. “Sir Gawain, you are so infuriating! I know donkeys and mules like carrots. All right? I’m trying to be considerate to you. You treat this like it’s a game. Well it isn’t. Wake up!” She stroked his back and patted his head. Love warmed her heart. 

“You wanna be….HEE HAW…a knight,” he retorted.

She ground her teeth. “And just because I’m a woman, I don’t have that opportunity?” She sniffed. Indignation burned inside of her craw. “You men are all alike. You talk about equality when it suits you. Then when the issue is resolved, you conveniently forget.”

“Don’t lump me in with that, Brit.” He narrowed his eyes. “I see you. I get it. I just…ERMM…set you straight. HEE HAW!”

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh really? Who sets who straight?” She put the skin in his mouth again.

He gulped down several more mouthfuls. “In your dreams, Brit.” He belched. Loudly. Then he farted. Dramatically.

Several cows moved away.

_What can I do with him? He’s hopeless! ARGHH!_ She folded her arms across her chest. Her lips curled into a frown.

He pranced around. Granted he felt better with the gas out of himself. Still he’d just scored a point in their verbal judo bout. He also showed the cows who was boss of the pasture.

“Feeling better now?” she supposed; Sarcasm dripping from every word.

He tilted his head and considered her. “Had point to….ERMM…make.”

Frustration turned her face even more crimson. “You do cause a stink. Don’t you? You hopeless man! It isn’t just about insults, half drunken flatulence or acting down to this! Be a man! Be a knight! Be an adult for goddess’ sake!”

Insult stabbed at him. “Like you know? HEE HAW! You Amazon! Wouldn’t know…ERMM….love if it…”

She grabbed onto his head. Ignoring the animal breath and scent, she kissed the top of his snout. Warmth, Amor and Affection pressed from her lips into him. Despite Annoyance pushing her away, Desire kept her right there. For a dozen heartbeats, she kept this up. Then she stepped back.

He stopped. A thousand pinpricks burned across his skin. His ears twitched. His heart soared from the kiss. It was clear that Britomart wasn’t a nun….

Abundantly so….

“And?” She glared at him.

He stomped at the ground. Realization blossomed in his brain. Amor burned in his heart. Still Freedom compelled him. Like a petulant child, he resisted coming clean. He shook his head.

She didn’t move or say a word. Rather than lecture more and possibly driving him away, she let him work through the matter on his own. She contented herself to simply watch.

He rolled his eyes. Finally he hissed, “Brit! You’re …HEE HAW….pain!” He pushed the next words out. Pride constricted his throat. Still Conscience and Love propelled Apology forth. “Sorry.” He bowed his head. Humility prompted Realization’s breakthrough into even his thick skull.

Seemed there was a lot more to her than just some wannabe Amazon or a girl playing dress up.

A lot more…

Her eyes watered. Joy’s tears dribbled from her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.

As she reacted, he spasmed and shook. A white glow enveloped him. His snout and ears shrank. His tail disappeared. His fur thinned and turned darker. His hair returned to its normal length. His hooves softened returning to hands and feet. His legs shifted to human arms and legs.

Awe and Wonder stunned her. She blinked several times. She beheld his restored human appearance. Relief overwhelmed her that the spell had lapsed. Then Realization hit her as to his clothes or lack thereof. For several heartbeats, Lust guided her eyes in unsavory ways. She blushed and turned away. Shame burdened her heart. “Sir Gawain, can you please?”

He moved his arms and legs. He stood albeit gingerly. He leaned against the tree. He shivered not understanding for a heartbeat why there was a draft. “I bother you that much?”

Her cheeks burned. “No! It’s just…just that….” She put her hands over her eyes. “You’re not dressed!”

He coughed. “And? You’re a bloody healer! You’ve seen….”

“Not like this!” She ground her teeth. She’d left her armor back in the village. She wasn’t about to take her own clothes off. Still Modesty compelled her to find something for him to wear. “Just stay behind that tree! I’m not one of those tavern wenches you seem to like so much!”

“Figures you’d be a prude! FINE!” He shivered his way behind the expansive oak tree. “You might think about getting some! You might loosen up!”

“And you might practice some restraint, you Oaf!” She cursed herself for not even bringing a blanket. 

“I could give you some ideas, Brit,” he insinuated.

She rolled her eyes. She could well imagine the kind of ideas brewing in his mind. She looked about the meadow trying to find an idea. Then, on the other side of the tree, she saw the discarded dress. She smirked. Satisfaction presented itself in welcome fashion. “You’d help me with ideas?”

“Yeah sure. Anything to help out.” He leaned up against the tree. Anticipation and Expectation prompted not so savory thoughts in his mind. Desire and Arousal stiffened him. He grinned. 

“Anything to help out?” she asked.

“Yeah anything. Brit, get that stick out of your tail already! Nobody’s going to see us. I’m sure Mith will get it,” he told her.

She cleared her throat. Somehow she managed not to laugh or even betray a cough. “She’d give it to you if you got me with child. Hold out your hand.”

He grinned. “Never knew you’d be one for games, Brit.” Imagination played with him prompting images of her naked in front of himself. “Just put it in there. I’ll be gentle with it.”

“You can try,” she gibed.

“Just give it a chance. You…” Then he felt the fabric hit his hand. “What the?” He yanked the dress to him. “Oh…no! _Oh HELL NO!_ ”

“You did say anything to help. Didn’t you?” she supposed. She snorted almost seeing the steam rising from behind the tree.

“I didn’t mean wearing this again! Brit!” he argued.

“It’s all that’s here. I’m wearing a dress. And there’s no armor. Whatever can we do?” she informed him. Irony and Sarcasm dripped from every word out of her mouth. 

“I’m not wearing this!”

“So don’t. I don’t care. Stay out here and freeze that overbloated arse of yours off for all I care, you Clot Poled Muttonhead! For all we know, the Southrons could ride in. Cedric’s men could come over that rise. And all you’d have is a _less than adequate lance_ and some deluded thinking at your disposal,” she countered. “Just wear it. When we get back, we can get you some clothes.”

“Just until we get back there?” he insisted.

“Yes. I will guide us in the most proper way to Hunith’s hut,” she vowed.

He sighed. Dejection and Defeat soured in his mouth. He grimaced. “She would do this!” He pulled the dress back on over his head. He cinched the torn skirt together so as not to hear her carry on about it. Then he shuffled out into view. “There! Satisfied?”

She coughed. “Now that’s your decent, yes.”

“Decent meaning covered not in this! Bloody manure!” he protested. “Let’s get back there!” He stalked toward the horse.

“Patience is a virtue!” she advised.

“NOT LIKE THIS!”

She laughed knowing she’d just gotten a big touch in their continuing duel…..


	7. Ambushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pair of smugglers want to get their payload to its destination. They find Arthur, Gwen and a lot more than they bargained for.....

Chapter 6  
[Woods—A League Beyond Ealdor’s Southern Border]

Despite the morning’s passage, the woods remained difficult to traverse. The mists clung stubbornly to the landscape obscuring trees and paths alike. A chill cut through the air. Animal, bird and people alike moved slowly through the murk. 

Well most people did. For some, Rejection swept Reason from them. They ran from Pain. They ran to forget……

 

****

 

Gwen ran away from the village center. Tears blurred her eyes. She couldn’t think. Instinct propelled her away. She couldn’t bear another minute in that place. She couldn’t deal with Arthur’s ingratitude.

A jagged branch scratched her arm. Its burning touch jarred her back to her senses. 

Her hand grasped the injured spot. She shuddered. She huffed several burning breaths. Exhaustion weighed on her legs and hips already. She slumped against a knotted oak tree. She wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve. “How could he? I told him it wasn’t my fault! I told him!” She ground her teeth.

Fantasy and Romance, it seemed, would deny her that desired happy ending after all…despite everything she’d done. She wouldn’t have her home, friends or her heart.

All seemed to turn their backs on her plight. All didn’t seem to care….

_I should have faith. Princess Mithian and Blancheflor seem to care. So why did they let Arthur do what he did? WHY? I cured him. Our love did that. Yet he still has that stick up his arse. He knows I’m not to blame! Why can’t he get over his pride? WHY?_ Her breathing slowed. The break seemed to help ease her legs’ tension. Another few heartbeats would see her ready to press on again.

Then through the mists, Arthur’s voice called, “GWEN! GUINEVERE! WHERE ARE YOU?”

She bit her lip. Desire pushed her back toward him. She wanted to believe he was sorry. She wished that he would take her back.

Doubt pushed her onward.

And with that, she bolted like a frightened deer deeper into the pea soup fog.

 

****

 

Not far away, a sturdy carriage eased its way along the path. Two brown horses with white manes and matching tails plodded forward. The wheels carved deep grooves in the damp earth. Curtains drawn over the windows secured something therein. Locks on the carriage’s rear wooden boxes protected still more booty of one kind or another. 

Sitting on the front seat, a sandy brown haired man held the reins. Turmoil and Experience added muscle to his arms. Under his coat, a dagger waited for use. A sword rested in its scabbard. His brown eyes scanned the fog. “Can’t believe this hasn’t burned off yet. We need to be in Regelsborough by midday tomorrow.”

Beside him a lithe woman with dark blonde hair snorted. Her pony tail hung down her back. Dark leather covered her torso and legs. She also wore a sword at her hip. She snorted. “We’ll get there. Best to be cautious. We needed to skirt the main road through Camelot. Remember?”

He frowned. “What the bloody Devil are the Pendragons doing now? As if we need them muddling things up for the common folk further? You heard Reginald. Every day we’re late means further penalties on our payment.”

She rolled her eyes. “Tristan, it will be all right. At least we have a treasure to be delivered still. Those Southrons are out of place. Whatever are they doing so far north?”

Tristan coughed. Disdain dripped from his words. “They’re mercenaries hired by the boy king more than likely. As if he’d understand what it takes to rule fairly?”

She frowned. Yes Tristan was a great smuggler. He fought better than anyone else. She trusted no one with her back or heart for that matter. Despite her own ironclad resolve, she still relaxed at his gentle nature and caring. That being said, Bitterness bit at her ears. “They live in a different world than we. Don’t concern yourself or wish for trouble.”

“Isolde, you sum up the situation well as always,” he conceded. His lips curled into a smile for her benefit. He exhaled a calming breath and patted her shoulder. “I’d travel the world with you if I could.”

“We have time for that.” Her eyes sparkled back at him. She grinned. “That is if you don’t get us into more trouble.”

“Me?” He snorted. Memoria prompted recollections of face offs with toll collectors and officials in cities and distant villages alike. Brigands and highwaymen had attempted to waylay them in pursuit of the gold and frankincense locked in their strongbox. More than once, drunken men had assaulted them in some no-name tavern. He recalled facing the challenge with sword raised in hand.

Protecting his back, his companion engaged the others. Her sword struck steel upon steel with the attackers’ blades. The sharp edge claimed first blood from them all. Purpose, Mischief and a bit of Mirth all shone in her eyes during these times.

His partner, his companion, his love. His Isolde…..

The Late Antiquity version of Bonnie and Clyde they were. They’d smuggled cartloads of goods across Britannia. At most turns, Fortune guided them past royal officials. They made sport of the bounties on their heads. They baited and then evaded the knights’ patrols in several realms. 

All for Thrill’s high…Euphoria’s surge….to float…to fly….

To share with one’s love….

Even if she would never let him hear the end of it….

He sighed. “Maybe if you didn’t slam some fool against the wall?”

She coughed. “Maybe if you’d be a little quicker to defend my honor, I wouldn’t have to.” She rolled her eyes at the old chivalry. Granted it endeared him to her. Still she could hold her own in a scrap or two. Just as often, she’d pulled a few louts off of his tail. Then she’d steal an impetuous kiss from his cheek. To top it off, an impish smirk pushed warm waves up his spine.

“Have to remember you are an equal partner in this. Right?” he supposed.

She chuckled at his politically correct response. “Knew there was a reason I kept you around.” Her eyes twinkled into his.

“I can think of a few,” he gibed back not giving an inch.

“Maybe because you cook, clean and do the manual labor?” she teased.

“Among other things.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t change.”

“Don’t plan to.” Crimson colored her cheeks. She looked about the area once again. Granted her eyes couldn’t discern anything other than shadows in the mist. Still she sensed someone else was out there. She heard the birds stir ahead. “Hear that?”

He nodded. “Probably some deer wandering. Best though to be careful.”

At that moment, Gwen stumbled out of the mist. She huffed. Her legs quivered threatening to collapse underneath her. Somehow she stopped before ending up in the horses’ way.

The animals reared and neighed loudly.

“WHOA! EASY!” he assured them. He pulled back on the reins reminding them of his presence. “She’s not going to do you harm! Settle down!” He looked Gwen over. Her dress seemed to indicate a town servant. Still its tears and smudges betrayed Toil’s effect on it. Her hair lay askew. Fear and Indignation burned in her eyes. “And what are you doing here?”

Gwen cleared her throat. She didn’t want to involve passersby in the situation. Given how they traveled off of the beaten path, she could tell that they didn’t really care to be involved in anything. “I’m running away.” She summoned up the last of her strength and stood tall. 

“Running away, are you?” Isolde supposed. She nodded. “Perfect conditions for it. Which way are you headed?”

“Anywhere but here. I’m sorry. I don’t have much but….” Gwen started.

At that moment, Arthur’s voice cut through the fog. “GWEN! GWEN, WHERE ARE YOU?”

Tristan coughed. “Well it seems your master is getting close. Now isn’t he? We don’t give rides for free.”

“I’ll work. I can cook and clean. I’ll earn my way,” Gwen offered. She could almost feel Arthur getting closer. 

Isolde sighed. While she didn’t usually agree with picking up such strays, she could tell that Gwen wasn’t going to give them trouble. “Tristan.”

“Isolde, we can’t! How do we know she won’t try anything? She could be one of Cedric’s spies! Worse she could be working for Camelot Brat King!”

Gwen somehow kept a straight face. “I can assure you that I am not.” She curtseyed. “I have to go if you won’t. I….”

Arthur stumbled out of the mist. Sweat dripped from his forehead. His blonde hair went every which way. Desperation and Frustration burned in his eyes. He stiffened. “Who are you? Get away from her.”

Gwen shook her head. Granted she didn’t want to be near him. Still she wouldn’t bear to see him hurt either. “Arthur, please. Just don’t do anything rash.”

“I’d agree.” Isolde looked to Tristan. “Cover me.” She slid down off of the wagon seat. Jest twisted her lips into a smile at Arthur’s appearance. “You’re who she’s running from?”

“Look. I need to talk with her. Just go and let us do so,” Arthur instructed. 

“Well now! A man hiding in a nun’s dress here in the middle of nowhere thinks to give orders?” Tristan scoffed. “Aren’t we the high and mighty one?” He jumped down off the rig and drew his sword. “We don’t take orders from cowards, Boy.”

Gwen shook her head. She bit her lip. _Don’t! Please, Arthur! Just let us go._

“You’re avoiding the main road. So are we. One of our companions thought that disguise was the best option. Who would suspect a bunch of Nazarenes heading for their place of worship? “ Arthur told them. His eyes kept careful watch of the duo’s movements and their weapons. 

“And he dressed you as a nun? No wonder she’s running from you,” Tristan jabbed.

“Yes well…” Arthur frowned. He rubbed the back of his neck. Exasperation flared in his chest. “He is an idiot at times.”

“And yet he dressed you like the fool? Seems to me that you’re the idiot,” Tristan retorted. He laughed at the sight of Arthur. “Perhaps she could dress like a King and make you her confessor?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. Crimson flared across his cheeks.

“We’re all running from the new Queen in Camelot. Morgana usurped the throne, Friends,” Gwen interjected. She stepped between the two men. “Please. Perhaps we three might be on our way.” She shook her head. “Arthur, I love you. Still I won’t be treated this way.”

“Wait! New ruler?” Isolde considered Gwen. “We just came through Camelot’s lands. Men dressed like Southrons swarmed across the countryside.”

“Morgana Pendragon and Helios led a Southron army into Camelot. They’ve conquered the kingdom for themselves. We had no choice but to flee,” Gwen explained. “Please!”

“And her goons took everything. Didn’t they?” Tristan shook his head. He considered Arthur again. “Even the clothes off of your back.” He shook his head. “I’ve got a good mind to tell you both to rot.”

“We can’t get involved. We….” Isolde stiffened. Her ears heard twigs snapping. She drew her sword. “Tristan?”

“Aye. I heard that!” Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “What did all of your yelling bring down on us? We don’t want attention!” He brandished his sword. Curtly he motioned with his head toward the wagon. “Get behind it!” 

Isolde stood beside her lover. “What do you suppose they brought down on us?”

“Her? I think she’s showing sense in getting away. Him?” Tristan snorted. “That imbecile did something!”

“Me?” Arthur protested. “Maybe if she would talk, I….”

“Arthur, unless you apologize and pardon me, there’s nothing more to say,” Gwen asserted. She grabbed a good sized bough from the ground. “Not exactly a staff but it’ll have to do.”

By now, torches could be seen dancing in the fog like a swarm of fireflies on a summer evening. Voices called out to each other. 

Arthur grabbed Gwen’s arm. “Go! Gwen, they want me not you! GO!”

“You?” Tristan exchanged looks with Isolde. “Why would…?” He stared at the exiled King. “You? You’re him?” He spat on the ground. “You’re Pendragon!”

“I am.” Arthur frowned. He surveyed the area. “We need to move now!” He grabbed for Gwen’s hand. “That wagon won’t outrun the pursuit. Grab your weapons! Let’s go!”

“Abandon the wagon? We can’t! Why should we trust you?” Tristan demanded. He rushed over to the wagon. He opened the side door. He tossed a couple of swords onto the ground. “I shouldn’t do this but….”

“We don’t have a choice,” Isolde insisted. “You two take a sword apiece. Just don’t disappoint us.” Her eyes flashed fire at the two refugees. “Don’t disappoint us!”

“I don’t abandon friends or allies,” Arthur disagreed. He picked up one of the swords. He handed one to Gwen. “Gwen, get ready.”

Gwen sucked in a deep breath. “I can’t believe this is happening. I….” She held the sword ready. Despite her pain, Love shone in her eyes for him. Her breath caught in her throat. Urgency yanked at her. “We need to move!”

“You’ve left us with little choice. Come on!” Tristan barked. Turning in a complete circle, he saw the torches completely cutting off any means of escape. “Bloody hell!”

“They chased you over the border?” Isolde pressed. 

“Morgana wants you dead, Arthur. I shouldn’t have to tell you that!” Gwen snapped. “We can’t….”

At that moment, several Southron soldiers closed in on their position. In a concentric circle, they pushed in on the trapped quartet. Their numbers filled in any gaps. A sea of torches buzzed in closer and closer through the mists.

“Fine mess you got us into!” Tristan groused. He narrowed his eyes. “Be careful!”

Isolde arched an eyebrow. “We’re surrounded. You want me to be careful?” She tensed. Her sword waved through the air prepared for a first clash.

For several heartbeats, the torches hovered just out of sight in the mists. They hung back waiting for a cue of some sort. 

Morgana marched out of the covering fog. Triumph and Satisfaction glinted in her eye. She rubbed her hands together. “Well now! I never would have thought to look for you here.” Sarcasm seeped from her lips. “You’re coming with us, Arthur. And you too, Gwen. We have so much to catch up on.” She considered Tristan and Isolde. “And you have made two new friends no less? Have they learned about your stupidity, Dear Brother?”

“You don’t let anyone just walk away, Morgana,” Gwen disagreed. She moved closer to the others.

“We are in Cedric’s lands, Gwen. He knows we’re here. Does he know about you both? How about your friends? Imagine what could happen to Merlin’s mother and the village? What about the incident for Nemeth? We do know dear sweet Mithian transgressed on these lands and mine.”

“The throne is mine! Not yours!” Arthur protested.

Morgana coughed. “Believe what you wish. Would you be responsible for more deaths?” She shrugged. “You and Gwen come with me now. I’ll let the others go. Cedric asked that we not make a mess.” She waved her fingers. _“Cadal!”_ Her eyes glinted at the quartet.

“What is she…? She has magic!” Tristan realized. His eyelids sagged. His brain numbed. “Get away, Isolde. I wouldn’t….” He staggered.

“Pendragon, take her and go. We’ll….” Isolde struggled to hold her sword up. Her arms caved under its weight. She slumped to the ground.

Arthur stood his ground. He could see Gwen already slumbering under the spell’s influence. His feet tripped over the dark fabric. 

“Such grace, Arthur! Really?” Morgana dismissed. Her eyes glowed again. 

Arthur flew backward. He slammed up against the wagon. He slid down the paled wood and hit the ground. The sleeping spell took hold of him.

“So much for his resistance.” Morgana sniffed. She turned to the soldier next to himself. “Take the wagon. Let them learn what it means to befriend Arthur.” She grabbed handfuls of Arthur’s and Gwen’s respective clothes. With another glow of the eyes, she teleported them away.

Her troops followed her command. Two of them climbed up on the seat. One took the reins and drove them back over the border into Camelot. The others formed a supportive cluster around and behind the transport.

Trouble, it seemed, never took a holiday….


	8. Merthian Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin broods by himself. Will and Mithian have some insights for him.

Chapter 7 [Stand of Trees—Close to Ealdor’s Northern Boundary—Twenty Minutes Earlier]

Merlin wandered through the meadow. The wind billowed the stalks hypnotically in front of his eyes. The breeze ruffled his hair and dimpled his skin. _Sol_ played hide and seek with the clouds in their blue backdrop overhead. Yet he noticed none of these things. Regret burdened his heart. Indecision muddled his thinking. He didn’t know what to do.

Problems overwhelmed him. Arthur’s stubborn denial of Gwen’s apology ate at him. The others’ continued opposition to magic troubled him. Gaius’ quashing of Mithian’s argument concerning Merlin’s freedom perplexed him. Morgana and the Southrons loomed in his mind. Gawain and Arthur’s respective transformations and a potential reversal puzzled him. And then there was Mithian.

_Mithian…._

He rubbed his forehead. His heart skipped a beat. Still his mind struggled to balance Duty to Arthur with Love of the Princess. _It is my destiny to protect Arthur. Still can she be right? I should be able to do both._ He exhaled deeply. 

_You make things harder than they have to be, Merlin. It’s easier than you think._

Merlin froze. His eyes went wide. He swore the voice belonged to his best childhood friend. Still the latter had passed away years earlier. He turned this way and that. He surveyed the familiar field. He recalled how said friend often stole up behind him during chores and such….

…that is if said friend hadn’t sacrificed himself to keep Merlin’s secret safe….

“Will?” Merlin called out.

Will emerged from the thicket. The chain mail glistened in the light. The red stain from the fatal arrow wound still stained the tunic. The breeze mussed his hair. Frustration narrowed his eyes. “What is it with you, Merlin? What?”

Merlin stiffened. Incredulity lit his eyes. “Hello to you too. How are you…?” He wondered if Morgana had brought Will back as she had Lancelot. “You died.”

“Yeah I did. Didn’t I?” Will coughed. He frowned. “Relax, Merlin. I’m me. I’m not a shade. I was sent back to give you a kick in the arse. How is it that you’re handed the whole thing on a platter and you find ways to bullocks it up?”

“Will, it’s not easy….” Merlin started.

“Oh yeah. It’s not easy staying in the Prince’s…sorry…King’s shadow. Meantime Hell itself runs across the countryside. You turn Morgana from friend to deadly enemy. Instead of using magic, you run away from the main issue. You could destroy the Southrons! You could save Camelot! And you wouldn’t have to lead your friends here and attract Cedric’s attention!” Will sniped back. “Merlin, it is for you to bring magic back into the light! You serve the man who’d hurt that and you. Now that Princess…wow!” Admiration lit Will’s eyes. “She is definitely for you. I’ve been watching. She cares about you. She doesn’t mind your magic. She’s interested in legalizing magic and the old religion. She wants you to rule with her not just serve her.”

“You too? Will, I have to serve Arthur!” Merlin insisted.

“No, Merlin. You have to protect him. You have to fight alongside him. You might actually have to step out into the light and whammy someone in plain sight! Imagine that?” Will supposed. Sarcasm dripped from his lips. “You’re his brother in arms not his wet nurse! WAKE UP!”

“What else can I do? We’re peasants, Will! I can’t just mouth off to Arthur in front of the court!” Merlin argued.

“You do a good job of it now,” Will countered. He picked up a rock and heaved it back into the trees. “You say you’re a peasant? FINE!” He raised his hands demonstratively. “DEFEND THIS VILLAGE! USE YOUR BLOODY MAGIC!”

“You know I can’t. It’s….” Merlin started.

“Yeah. It’s treason against the Crown or some bloody nonsense like that.” Will paced. “Merlin, it’s treason in Camelot. The other kingdoms choose whether or not to enforce that stupid rule! Nemeth looks the other way. You can have it all and help that overstuffed Prat.” He stopped and turned.

“I couldn’t have said any better myself. Thank you, Sirrah,” Mithian expressed. She considered the two men from her saddle. She rubbed her horse’s neck. Affection urged a smile onto her face. “I’ve been trying to get that through to him.” She inspected his armor. “You’re not one of Cedric’s men, are you?”

Will arched an eyebrow at her. “I serve someone a lot more important than that.” In spite of himself, he bowed. “Princess.”

She dismounted. Relief lifted her spirits. “I am always glad to make new friends. Forgive me. You know who I am. Perhaps Merlin might care to introduce us?” She elbowed the Warlock in the side.

Merlin jerked himself back to attention. “Hmm? Oh yeah. Princess Mithian of Nemeth, this is William of Ealdor, my best friend while we were growing up here. Will, Princess Mithian.”

“Will, it’s a pleasure,” she assured him. “Thank you for not dismissing his magic out of hand.”

“Why would I? It’s a tool like a plow. It’s a weapon like a sword. It depends on how someone uses it, right?” Will pointed out. “Merlin kept to himself a lot. I think that was his mother’s doing. Still I can understand why.” He chuckled. “We had several close calls over the years.”

“Some of which you got us into,” Merlin jabbed. Embarrassment streaked in crimson shades across his cheeks.

She arched an eyebrow. A playful chuckle escaped her lips. “Oh really? And you were such the perfect angel, Merlin?”

“I tried. Mother kept a close eye,” Merlin told them.

“Oh yes.” Will scratched his head. He relished a chance to get one up on his friend. “There’s the time you made your clothes vanish out there. And then you made that sheep float when we were seven. I also recall that year of the drought. You nearly got caught that time.”

“Will, I was trying to help that time!” Merlin protested. Crimson blushed across his entire face by now.

“The year of the drought?” Her eyes twinkled. Her smirk spread further across her face. “Tell me more.”

“Will, it wasn’t that big of a deal!” Merlin hissed.

Will shrugged. “He had a great plan. We needed water for the fields. Merlin made the water float from the river into the field.”

“River? You mean the one back that way?” She motioned over her left shoulder. “Merlin, that’s two leagues. You would’ve been seen!”

“I was nine at the time, Princess. I wasn’t concerned with that. I only thought of the fields and keeping them irrigated. We need to eat. Right?” Merlin defended himself.

“Aye you do,” she relented. She rubbed his shoulder. “Always thinking of others first.” Her lips whispered Love’s message across his cheek. “Your instinct served you well then. It does so now. Think of the good you can do. I just told Gaius the same thing.”

“Good luck getting that through his thick skull, Milady,” Will scoffed. 

“I know what I have to do! I have to protect Arthur. It’s my destiny. All right?” Merlin insisted.

“Merlin, you can serve better as an advisor or a knight. You’ve already proven your worth as a diplomat.” She looked him in the eye. “Neither Will or I are telling you to abandon Arthur or Camelot. Perhaps though you can do more through a greater role? Perhaps in the roles I mentioned? Perhaps as a Prince of a certain adjoining realm?”

Will’s eyes went wide. “Bloody hell, Merlin. Listen!”

“Prince? I could never…I….” Merlin stared at her. Incredulity numbed his mind. “Princess, are you offering…? Why? I can’t prove myself like that! I….” He rubbed the back of his neck. His heart beat faster. 

“Merlin, you already are. You were meant for greater things than polishing Arthur’s armor.” She nodded. “I can’t formally extend the offer yet. But I want to. You’ve proven yourself to Camelot. You’re one more deed away from doing so in Father’s eyes. You are so worthy!”

“But, Princess, I can’t. We can’t….” Merlin protested. Can we really?

Yes, my Warlock. We can. Hope gleaned in her eye. I love you, Merlin. Let that be what matters. She pressed her lips against his.

Instinct guided his arms around her waist. He tugged her close to him. His mind blended with hers. Harmony coordinated their heartbeats. Warmth made them feel as if they were soaring above the clouds.

Will folded his arms and simply watched. He’d waited for his friend to find a woman such as that. He wanted Merlin to be with someone who accepted him on his own terms. He wished for the Warlock to be with someone who could allow him to serve without hiding…to allow Merlin to walk in the light safely.

Mithian, it seemed, was just that woman….

When the moment had ended, Merlin stumbled back. Euphoria jarred him. His skin dimpled and tingled. His lungs pulled in ragged breaths. He slumped against an oak tree. His eyes riveted on the regal brunette standing in front of them. He knew there would be no cure from Cupid’s arrow…..

…not that he wanted one in any event….

For that brief span, time stood still. The world’s problems ceased to exist to him. Nothing mattered….

…only her…Mithian….the woman who declared herself his Princess….

….his Princess….his Love….

Will coughed. “I never thought I’d see the day. It seems you accomplished a miracle, Milady.”

She snorted. “Merlin needed someone to kick him out of his rut, William. No more, no less. We will face Arthur together when the time comes.”

“Good luck on that. Arthur depends on him more than anyone,” Will replied.

“Anyone save Guinevere. It’s time for him to find others to fill those boots. Merlin has other purposes.” She offered her hand to Merlin. “Might I help you up, my Warlock?”

Merlin nodded numbly. He clasped onto her hand. Together they got him upright. Gratitude compelled him to kiss the back of said hand.

Giddiness warmed her heart now. She grinned. “You learn quickly, Merlin.” Her eyes sparkled into his. 

“Y…Yeah. We can.” Merlin grimaced at how he sounded. He ground his teeth and blushed.

She rubbed his arm. “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t care how polished you are. I feel your warmth. I know your heart…..”

“Thanks,” Merlin interjected.

“…even if you have a lot to learn,” she finished with a teasing barb. She snickered and kissed him again. “Now come. We should return to your mother’s house. There is much to discuss.” She turned to Will. “You as well, Master William.”

Will nodded. “So I’ve been instructed, Milady. I can’t trust Merlin not to trip over his fat feet.” He pulled the hood over his head. “The villagers watched me die before. I don’t want to cause a panic.”

“Die? What?” She looked to Merlin.

“He died here several years ago. He’s back here for a reason besides jabbing me that is,” Merlin explained. He smirked at his friend. “Come on. Perhaps I might help you onto your horse, Princess?”

“Thank you but I’m fine,” she declined. She mounted the horse. “Follow me.” She urged the horse into a canter. Her mind struggled to balance their current crisis with the romantic storms raging about them. For now they’d head back to Ealdor and regroup.

Peace it seemed lay far away…..


	9. Nemeth's Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malodius and Sir Belvidere discover trouble brewing on Ealdor's edges....

Chapter 8   
[Ridge—Northern Edge of Ealdor’s Valley]

The conditions cooled along the valley’s northern border. _Sol_ continued his game of peek-a-boo through the broken clouds. Icy chill blew daggers across the landscape. A few birds glided aloft on these currents; their wings beating in efforts to stay warm.

But that only hinted at what was coming….

 

****

 

Belvidere bunched his cloak tightly about himself. He glanced at the brewing storm front to the northwest. The occasional spit of rain drizzled onto his cheeks. The chill reddened his cheeks. His eyes swept the landscape below his post toward the north. Instinct nagged at him. Conscience told him that they shouldn’t be so far into Cedric’s territory.

Serenity kept everything balanced at least on the surface.

Doubt battered him. He understood that Duty mandated the watch. That much he would never argue or shirk from. Still, however, he tried to wrap his mind around the events. _I know the Princess has good intentions. Still her methods leave a lot to be desired._ A heavy sigh escaped his lips. He recalled the intervention at Camelot. He knew that their forced entrance into the city had damaged the defenses. He disagreed with Mithian’s breaching of social protocols. _Why can’t she see the damage she does? Camelot fell to the Witch and that rabble because of the damaged defenses. Our being here could start a war._ He shook his head. _How can King Rodor sanction this? He has always respected our neighbors. And yet he gives the Princess a free hand to violate their sovereignty? And what of her interest in these peasants?_ He frowned wishing them across the border and back toward their own lands in Nemeth. _If the Witch wants tolerance then we should give it to her. Uther and his ilk were power-greedy fools to try and control it._ He snorted to himself.

Then the wind shifted from northwest to northeast. It howled at him. Almost affirming his own disagreement toward their presence in that place, Natura seemed to protest further. The chill further cut through his armor and cloak. His face numbed. His lips chapped. Still his ears and eyes struggled to remain alert. _Bloody blazes with this!_ He ground his teeth. He wished for some warm cider or perhaps some broth. He looked to the sky. _Forgive us, Great One. We shouldn’t be here._ Disapproval burdened his heart and soul. Then he tensed at what came next.

A distant horn’s call slapped against his ears.

Something moved against the nearby mountains. Although the exact number couldn’t be readily discerned, a few mounted figures wearing Mercian colors on horseback galloped over the peaks. They pressed down the nearby side and into the valley. Behind them, a dark clad wave stormed into view. They cleared the mountains’ barrier in good time and headed toward them.

_Cedric, it seems, knows of our presence. The Witch’s handiwork I would suspect!_ His lip curled. He mounted his steed and urged the latter into a desperate gallop toward the others.

Consequence, it seemed, was about to render its bill for Mithian’s actions…..

 

****

 

[Nemethian Campsite—Woods Across the Valley from Ealdor]

_Malodius_ stalked about the camp’s edge. His eyes flitted back and forth watching the trees and spaces between. He kept distance from the others. Even as they prepared for the next conflict, he practiced due diligence as well. He understood the need for patience. Still he wondered at how the knights could sit and talk around the campfire. He admired how some of their number sharpened their blades and inspected their armor. 

Still Instinct kept him alert. 

Magical residue crackled close by. Its dark tone burned through the air. Its presence stifled all activity.

He narrowed his eyes. Recognition dawned immediately on him. He knew Morgana was closer than Camelot’s main citadel. Worse still she wasn’t alone. His tail battered the grass. He stalked over to Ywain and snarled.

“What be the meaning of that?” Galahad jumped to his feet. Anxiety pushed his hand onto the sword hilt.

“Stand down. He wants our attention, Sir Galahad.” Ywain explained. He walked over to their companion. “Is something amiss, _Malodius_?”

The lion nodded. He motioned with his head into the woods. Then he turned and rushed off in the direction of the residue’s source.

Ywain exhaled. He grabbed his sword and slid it back into his scabbard. “We have trouble. I’m going to follow him.”

“Trouble? The Witch here?” Galahad stiffened.

“Perhaps. I trust _Malodius_ wouldn’t just bolt into the woods for no reason.” Ywain hustled to his horse. After saddling it, he mounted the steed and galloped off in pursuit of his friend.

_Now what?_ Galahad shook his head. _So much for the Princess’ hope of stealth and not being detected!_ He went about sounding the alert.

Trouble, it seemed, had found them….

 

****

 

[A Quarter Turn of the Hourglass Later]

_Malodius_ pressed through the thick woods. Urgency quickened his lengthy stride. His paws pounded with increasing pace across the damp earth. His mind swam with potential details. Suspicion led him to assume the worst. _What is Morgana Pendragon up to?_ Then he stopped at the trail and what he saw there.

The recent confrontation’s signs lingered. Footprints tore up the grass and marked the damp ground. The trees bore scars from where an errant ax or a swinging sword had struck them. The wagon’s tracks led up to that point and then circled back from whence it came. The energies crackled in that place.

Energies holding Tristan and Isolde fast asleep.

He sniffed the air. He growled at the sleeping spell. He could feel other spells’ residual traces in that place as well. There was no further doubt (if any had remained). He affirmed Morgana’s active involvement. _Milady?_

_Yes, Malodius?_ Mithian replied.

_The Witch has been here. I am in the woods barely two leagues from the village. She and her followers fought someone. She cast a sleeping spell on a man and a woman who are still here. Is everyone accounted for in the village? Malodius_ reported.

_I have tracked Merlin down. Beyond that, we don’t know about the others. Britomart went after Sir Gawain. Arthur pursued Gwen. I retrieved water from the village cistern for Merlin’s mother. Then I rode to find him. We’ll have to check on everyone in the village_ , Mithian clarified. _If anything’s wrong, I will let you know._

_Thank you, Princess. I will do the same. Malodius_ considered Tristan and Isolde anew. _What is their role in this matter? Are they villagers? The Witch’s former underlings? Or are they simply unfortunate in their timing?_ From an initial look, he couldn’t see any injuries at least.

Ywain rode up to the scene. He dismounted and quickly tied the horse’s reins to a nearby tree bough. He frowned at the site’s condition. “A battle here and the enemy vanishes without a trace? Most curious.” He leaned over the sleeping couple. “Perhaps we might get them back to the village? Even if we don’t have a sorcerer amongst us, we can still see to their needs.”

_Malodius_ ignored his friend’s statement. He leaned over Tristan and licked the latter’s face. Then he did the same thing to Isolde.

Within a heartbeat, she stirred. She blinked her eyes and tensed at the sight of the lion. “What are you? Where are that witch and the Southrons?” She drew her sword.

“Isolde? What?” Tristan murmured drowsily. 

“The Witch left a knight and a creature behind!” Prejudice pushed her to her feet. She stepped between her awakening lover and the duo. 

“Peace! Neither _Malodius_ nor I mean you harm! He broke the enchantment on you both,” Ywain assured them. “I am Sir Ywain of Nemeth. He is _Malodius_ , a servant to King Rodor and our land. Who might you be?”

“I am Tristan. She is Isolde. We’re…travelers.” Tristan warily considered the knight and the magical lion. “You are not with the Witch or her soldiers?”

“Most assuredly not. We are here to assist our friends from Camelot. We prepare to cross blades with the Southrons at some future point,” Ywain told them.

“You have failed then in one crucial way then,” she informed him. “Arthur Pendragon and a woman named Guinevere were here. We were ambushed by the Witch and those Southrons. She cast a spell on Tristan and me.”

“She did the same to the Boy King and the woman.” Tristan rubbed his forehead. “She took them and our wagon.” He frowned. “Pendragons bring nothing but harm upon us all!”

“That is a matter for another day.” Ywain sheathed his blade. “Come with us to Ealdor. At least we can have you examined.”

“I’d rather avoid any other knights or royal entanglements,” Tristan declined.

She shook her head. “Tristan, we are alone and without our wagon and horses. Perhaps they might help us? We don’t have much of a choice.”

He bowed his head. He wanted to insist on his answer. Mistrust dictated that they shouldn’t accept. Still he couldn’t argue with her. That was especially true at that point. He sighed. “All right. I will be watching though.”

_Malodius_ snarled and turned back toward the path. Resentment flared in his chest. 

“You can watch. We mean you no harm,” Ywain reiterated. He mounted his horse. “Follow us.” He cantered down the path with _Malodius_ close behind.

“We should walk away,” Tristan doubted.

“And go where? Tristan, we need to go with them,” she disagreed. 

He stiffened. “As we trusted Pendragon and that woman? Isolde!”

“We have nowhere to go. We can’t walk anywhere but to that village. Maybe they have horses? We don’t have anywhere else to go!” she insisted. “Come on!” 

He hesitated. He didn’t want to go with them. Still he knew that they had little choice. They had to at least get transportation and care before they could press on. Even so, he wouldn’t want to make the trek without her. “All right.” He followed warily.

And so another faction joined the brewing affair…..


	10. Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cedric plots on his next move. So do the two Camelot/Nemeth Couples.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Solstice!

Chapter 9  
[Northern Edge of Valley]

The Mercian army meandered guardedly over the mountains. Mounted knights kept firm hold on the reins and swords respectively. They kept their numbers massed together. Suspicion kept their eyes moving this way and that. Their scouts reported on the lack of organized threats ahead. Still they knew better than to storm blindly into the seeming bliss ahead.

Cedric frowned from astride his own dark charger. His fingers tapped Impatience’s Morse code across his saddle horn. Upon Morgana’s advice, he’d summoned his best knights to court. He pushed their pace overnight through southern Mercia and across Essetir toward that afterthought of a place. He drank several mouthfuls from a water skin. 

Two prime burhs in his side, Arthur and Mithian, had intruded into his domains. Whatever their mission, they hadn’t bothered to seek permission to be there. Courtesy, it seemed, had been lost on them.

Cedric coughed. Opportunity’s offering proved too valuable to turn down. From the spies’ accounts, the two intruding royals and a few hangers-on hid in the squalid village ahead. Anticipation burned in him. A grin spread across his face. He couldn’t believe how easy this seemed. He’d surround the village and capture Arthur and Mithian. Then he’d bankrupt Nemeth between the ransom, political demands and a forced marriage to Mithian. He’d sell the Boy King back to Morgana for a hefty purse. Finally he’d negotiate an alliance with Camelot’s new Queen and her Southron allies. He snapped his fingers. “Reynald!”

A dark haired man mountain with a matching beard rode up to his side. “Yes, King Cedric?”

“Are the men all here?” Cedric turned toward the advancing horde. His eye ascertained that his followers had indeed arrived. He wanted no stragglers. 

“We made good time. Aye, Milord,” Reynald affirmed. 

Cedric flexed his fingers. His eyes narrowed. He’d leave nothing to chance. “Surround the village. Nobody gets in or out. Do not fail me!”

Reynald ground his teeth. Instinct guided his eye toward the woods. Unlike his monarch, he anticipated that the trees could conceal reinforcements for their quarry. He steadied himself knowing better than to let Fear’s intrusion show on his face. “Aye, Milord. Might I suggest we sweep the woods for other knights?”

Cedric brooded at his lieutenant’s advice. He desired an easy victory. In his mind’s eye, he’d surround the hovel. Then he’d capture Arthur and Mithian. He’d discern the traitors harboring the outsiders and execute them. Still he knew better than to underestimate the loyalty of Arthur’s or Mithian’s respective knights. “We’ll cut them off. Then we’ll deal with whatever rabble is left. GO!”

Reynald nodded. He bowed his head. Then he rode toward the other knights. “Men! We are to surround the village! King Cedric wants Arthur of Camelot and Mithian of Nemeth unharmed and unspoiled. FORWARD!” He pulled his chain mail hood over his head. He drew his sword. He spurred his horse on toward the village ahead.

The other knights pushed on after him. Like a tidal wave, they swept down on Ealdor. 

Cedric watched this. Satisfaction blossomed in his gut. Now I have them!

 

****

[Meadow South of Ealdor]

Britomart pressed her horse as quickly as possible toward the village. Worry burned at her. Concern urged her onward. She knew they couldn’t stay undetected for long even in as remote a place as that. Cedric has to have spies here! If the Witch told him, the threat will come all the faster! She frowned and glanced over her shoulder. “Are you ready to fight if needed?”

Gawain snorted. “Brit, I’m always ready.” He bunched the skirt around his legs. “Are you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I meant for a fight! Keep your mind clean and focused!”

“What good’s that?” He smirked. Of course he understood that was her intent. He spoiled to break some heads. Frustration and Embarrassment over the donkey spell and the nun’s attire burned at him. He looked forward to breaking some heads in response. Still without his blade, he felt almost naked. 

“You Idiot! Why King Arthur keeps you as a knight is beyond me! Princess Mithian would never tolerate your buffoonery!” she snapped. 

“Yeah but you like me like that.” He coughed. He recognized the warmth up and down his spine accompanying his little jest. Even if it was intended to be at her expense, he tried to ignore his own feelings. 

“ARGH!” She clenched her sword’s hilt. Steam seemed to billow from her ears. How can he be such an arse? HOW? Her eyes scanned the countryside around them seeking a distraction from her fellow rider. 

He shook his head. Someone needs to get that stick out of her arse! He determined to break her puritanical streak. Then his ears picked up on another horse’s hooves galloping toward them. “Hey, Brit! We have company!”

“So you do have a use. You might have fooled me in that regard!” she groused. “Maybe you might let me know sooner next time?”

“Maybe you could instead of harping on every little thing. Nag! Nag! Nag!” He turned toward his right. There he saw Mithian and Merlin galloping toward them. “Hey, it’s Mith an’ Merlin!”

Relief warmed her. “That’s Princess Mithian to you, you Oaf! Can’t you have any respect?” She pulled up on the reins halting their progress. She turned the horse toward her approaching mistress. “Princess! You’re all right!”

“Whatever, Brit. Life’s too short.” He shook his head. Hopefully they have a spare sword on ‘em. 

Britomart chose to ignore her cohort’s latest response. She waved to the others.

Mithian rode up beside her maid and the knight. She exhaled deeply while trying to calm herself. “I see you cured Sir Gawain. Well done.”

“The spell ran out. Don’t give her any ideas,” Gawain denied. 

Mithian stiffened. Her eyes narrowed. 

_It’s Gawain being Gawain. He isn’t going to give Britomart any ground either way,_ Merlin advised.

_He should know to respect me!_ Mithian complained. 

_He calls Arthur ‘Princess’. He doesn’t respect ANY noble._ Merlin sighed. Of course he resented Gawain’s tone toward his Princess. 

_I could have Gwen put him in the stocks. Mithian arched an eyebrow._ Annoyance sparked in her eye. 

_He does have his uses. Remember that Morgana changed him. Then I made him wear the nun’s outfit,_ Merlin reminded her.

_True._ She shot him a glance over her shoulder. _You owe me though. And I will collect._

_Owe her?_ His eyes went wide. Dread parched his mouth. 

_Yes. Mithian smirked at him._ Anticipation lit in her eyes. _Desperate times call for desperate measures. Do they not?_

Merlin grimaced. His eyes burned into Gawain’s. _I know he’s angry over the dress but REALLY?_ Butterflies beat against his stomach’s sides. _We had to conceal ourselves! He needs to get over it!_

_As much as you need to deal with my feelings toward you? Merlin, not everything is as clean cut as you’d like it to be. Yes Arthur does need to be managed. Still I am *not* him._

Desire shot through him. _Oh I noticed._

_Well now! There *is* hope for you._ Mithian cleared her throat. She reached out. Her fingertips brushed ever so lightly across his sleeve teasing her intent. _I could talk to Arthur about Sir Gawain accompanying Britomart on a pilgrimage perhaps? I wonder how they’d handle the road toward Rome?_

_Do you want every kingdom between there and here at war with Nemeth?_ Merlin asked. He could almost anticipate the discord caused by the other couple’s constant bickering.

_True_ , she conceded. _Still she would teach him respect._

_If they don’t kill each other in the process,_ he insinuated.

She snorted. _I trust Britomart to keep him in his place. You should have more faith in Nemeth’s women, Merlin._

_Such as a certain Princess?_ He sighed. _I don’t know how you can have faith in me._

_Merlin, stop that! How many times do I have to tell you? YOU ARE WORTHY!_ Mithian shook her head. She turned toward her maid. “I see you found him.”

“Our wayward knight wandered through the meadow.” Britomart coughed. “I found him grazing. I’ll have to remember his fondness for straw.”

“Sure, Brit. Kick me when I’m down.” Gawain bowed his head.

“Princess Mithian asked for a report. Unlike some people, I do understand a dignified and proper response,” Britomart sassed.

Gawain arched an eyebrow at Merlin. _Proper? Wonder what Arthur would do if he saw how Merlin had his arms around Mith’s waist?_ He grinned.

Merlin recognized that look. “Gawain, don’t get us in any more trouble.”

“Trouble? Merlin, I ain’t said anything to do that,” Gawain denied.

“In that particular heartbeat, you Oaf,” Britomart interjected. “Have respect!” She elbowed him in the arm.

“Hey! What was that for?” Gawain rubbed his arm.

“Think before you speak. This is royalty we are addressing!” Crimson blushed across Britomart’s cheeks. “Forgive his impertinence, Milady.”

“You try me, Sir Gawain. Be grateful that some worthy people defend you.” Mithian squeezed Merlin’s hand.

Giddiness and Anxiety shot through Merlin in response. He gulped.

Gawain nodded. _Yeah I thought so._ “Merlin owes me for this.” He motioned toward his habit.

“Maybe if you didn’t open your mouth, you’d stay out of such things,” Britomart pointed out. At that moment, she heard a tremendous noise. “What could that be?”

Mithian listened. She recognized the oncoming Mercian army’s horses’ hooves pounding the earth. “An army here? Now?”

Merlin sighed. “Morgana told Cedric. That figures.” He wanted to rush toward the village and help Arthur. He needed to defend his mother. He also had to keep Mithian safe as well.”

“Bloody hell! Get me a sword! We can’t….” Gawain insisted. “I ain’t leavin’ Percy or the others like that!”

Merlin ground his teeth. He knew they’d be outnumbered badly against Cedric’s force. Still, when it came to magic, numbers didn’t count…well not as much…. _Kilgarrah! Malodius!_

_Yes, Young Warlock?_ the Great Dragon asked.

_We’re under attack! It must be Cedric’s army!_ Merlin told them.

_We can’t leave the villagers alone against that army,_ Mithian worried. 

_We have this, Milady. You stay back and stay safe! Malodius_ directed.

_I most certainly will not hide!_ Mithian hefted her crossbow. She turned to Britomart. “We will engage them.”

“Milady, we can’t!” Britomart hedged.

“Brit, we can’t leave ‘em!” Gawain disagreed. 

“We can hope for more help.” Merlin frowned. He glanced at Britomart and Gawain. He considered the larger situation. Could he trust the others to keep his secret if needed?

Desperate times called for desperate considerations…..


	11. Dragons' Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kilgarrah and Aithusa debate their purpose. Aithusa asks a question. She gets a response of sorts....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Muse decided to crank out another chapter before sunrise! Here's a surprise present for you all. Merry Christmas! :)

Chapter 10 [Kilgarrah’s Eyre—A Quarter Turn of the Hourglass Earlier]

Aithusa stared out of the cave’s entrance toward the cloud shrouded peaks beyond. Disgust and Anger burned in her mind. Impatience stewed in her heart. Puffs of smoke flowed from the sides of her snout. She kicked her taloned feet. _Our “great” dragon lord does it again! We’re just at his beck and call!_

_Such is our duty, Young One. He calls and we must heed him._ Kilgarrah watched her. His eyes narrowed. _How rash you’d be._

_We aren’t good enough to be seen with him? Why not?_ She shook her head.

_Merlin values us, Aithusa. Those around him however do not. Humans value that which they can control, manipulate and benefit from. Those that they can control, they’ll allow to survive. Those they can’t must be eliminated. We serve a greater destiny. Albion must come to pass._ He exhaled. _I have more reason than most to despise the Pendragon banner. Still Arthur must retain his throne. Merlin will ascend Nemeth’s throne._

She sniggered. 

_Something amuses you?_ Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes.

_Because it’s convenient for your favorite wizard to be on top. Isn’t it?_ she presumed.

_Merlin often does things that ill suit me, Aithusa. Still the goddess directs things as she will. Together they can direct the Greater Good. That does not mean I care for everything that happens in the process. Still one must have faith,_ he clarified.

_Faith? Faith in what?_ She sniffed at the insight.

_Faith that Fortune’s wheel will turn back in our direction. Faith that mankind will accept us as they once did. Faith that magic and tolerance will return to the land,_ he insisted.

_Maybe that’s the problem._ She kicked at the granite floor. _Maybe women need to step in. Morgana at least took care of me. Mithian offered me friendship. Guinevere was nice. Once they did so, the men were nice too._

_Ask Camelot how ‘nice’ the Witch is. She spills blood in vengeance and anger. She seeks to turn the sundial back. She might as well seek to reverse the flow of sand in an hourglass,_ he argued.

_She could with her magic. Merlin does that and you’re fine with it. Stop with the double standard, Kilgarrah!_ she countered. 

_I have chided Merlin about misusing his magic. Queens have abused their authority as well. No matter the gender, humans are humans. Look to the Amazons. They make war. They enslave men and those around themselves. The priestesses curse and harm those around them. All can learn. All can better themselves. So can we. He shook his head. Did the current generation of humans in Camelot deserve my wrath? Perhaps the elders did. Most did not. Merlin showed me that. He could have killed me. Mercy stayed his hand. We can hope others will do the same._ He swayed his tail about the area in back of himself. Inspiration sparked from her words. _Perhaps though you may have an idea._

_I do? That’s big of you,_ she snarked. 

He ignored Sarcasm’s bite in her words. _Priestess Ninane?_

_Yes, Great Dragon? I hear you. I watch the brewing conflict in Ealdor. What might my order do for you?_ Ninane asked.

_Aithusa has a possible solution to our situation. Perhaps we might speak?_ he requested.

In response, mists billowed forth from the cave’s sides. It enveloped the two dragons spiriting them away from that place…..

 

****

 

[Avalon]

When the mists cleared, the two dragons looked about. They saw mist shrouded woods. Beyond them, a small settlement bustled with activity. The great lake lapped against the shore. A gentle breeze whispered across their scales.

_Where are we?_ Aithusa wondered.

He exhaled. Realization calmed him. _I have heard whispers of a place like this. Beyond the Isle of the Blessed, there is an inner realm farther removed from ours. This is Avalon._

_Avalon?_ She’d heard Morgana refer to this place. _Where are the Sidhe? Will they object to our presence?_

_They would if we intruded without leave. We were summoned._ He saw Freya watching them intently. Even if they’d never met, he’d seen her face before. He’d seen her in Merlin’s thoughts. _Forgive me. I thought you’d passed on._

_I did. The triple goddess returned me to serve once more._ Freya smiled in greetings. _Welcome to Avalon. I appreciate your concern and courtesy._

_Who are you?_ Aithusa asked.

_I am Freya. When Merlin knew me, I was a cursed druid girl. I died at the hands of Camelot’s knights. Merlin’s love warmed my heart. I forgave Arthur and the knights for their actions. I now serve as the goddess’ High Priestess, Aithusa,_ Freya explained. _Ninane told me you had an idea. Please tell me. Perhaps the goddess will see fit to put it forth._

The White Dragon glanced skeptically at her. Then she looked to him.

_You said it before. Perhaps you can repeat yourself?_ He motioned with his head toward Freya. _Go on._

_It is all right. The goddess sent me to hear your insight, Aithusa. Please,_ Freya assured.

_Very well._ Aithusa cleared her throat. Anxiety unnerved her for a heartbeat. _I was saying that the men make a mess out of matters. They only think of ego and ownership. The women have treated me far better. Perhaps they might handle things?_

Freya considered the younger dragon’s words. _Perhaps. Women though are still human. There are examples for both genders both serving and abusing their subjects, Aithusa._

_Perhaps they’re pushed to it? Morgana was so nice to me. I healed her. She took care of me. Can’t everyone work together for a solution? At least she cared unlike Merlin. He abandoned me,_ Aithusa pointed out.

_I don’t know about that. Merlin is very caring and kind. He cared for me despite great odds,_ Freya disagreed. _Your argument about being pushed into a matter applies to him. In Camelot, he could not have cared for you, Aithusa. I wish he could have. It wasn’t fair to you what happened. Still, as you said, everyone can work together. We can forgive and move forward._ She patted Aithusa’s front left hip. _All need a place in the new Albion. Perhaps the goddess will find a way to fit Morgana Pendragon into that order._

_She is the High Priestess, I thought,_ he presumed.

_She was a High Priestess, Kilgarrah. With her excesses, she forfeited that privilege. Morgana is not entirely wrong. Her desire to restore the Old Religion and magic are in line with her duties. Vengeance and destruction are not._ Freya rubbed her chin. _I am sure the goddess will resolve matters in her own time and means._ She perked her ear toward the mists. _Events turn in the outer world. You both are needed._

_Needed?_ Aithusa looked again at Kilgarrah. 

_The battle for Ealdor, I fear,_ he realized.

Freya bit her lip. Fear chilled her. Despite her obligation to the goddess, her heart still ached for the Warlock. _You should both go. Duty makes it such. She waved her hands. My thanks to you both. May we see more fortunate times!_

In the mists over the lake, a hole opened.

_We shall do what we can,_ he agreed. He flapped his wings and took off for the breach.

Aithusa hesitated. _Lady, what?_

_Please help Merlin and the others. If not for him then as a favor to me?_ Freya pleaded.

Aithusa looked at the portal. Then she looked at the priestess anew. _All right. You’re nice to me. I can do as much for you._ She flew toward the portal disappearing from sight.

Freya waved her hands again closing the portal. She rubbed her forehead. _How can you keep putting yourself in harm’s way, Merlin?_ She turned and walked somberly toward the settlement.

Obligation, it seemed, waited for no person….


	12. Before the Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone braces for battle....

Chapter 11 [Ealdor]

The situation broke down rapidly. The invading Mercians bore down on the small village. Peasants rushed about like chickens with their heads cut off. Some grabbed distaffs or other sharp tools determining to defend their homes. Others hurried for the woods’ sanctuary. And others hustled toward the danger.

Truly it was frenetic indeed.

 

****

 

[Field West of the Village]

_Malodius_ ran toward Ealdor. His paws barely touched the ground. His lengthy strides devoured the distance between himself and the village. In contrast, his pace widened the distance between himself and the remaining emerald clad allies. His ears pinned back against his head. His mane billowed in the breeze. Purpose narrowed his eyes. He only knew that Balinor’s beloved was still in that village. He would do whatever it took to pull her out of harm’s way. He didn’t bother to glance back at his comrades. He knew they’d back him up. _Merlin?_

_Yes, Malodius?_ Merlin asked over their link.

_Keep the Princess safe. That is on you. We can handle this, Malodius_ instructed. While he had said as much before, he understood Mithian’s resolve in that regard as well. _As much as she stands by our allies, the burden of rule will lie with her after King Rodor._

_But what about my mother and neighbors in Ealdor? We can’t desert them!_ Merlin protested.

_Keep her safe! I will not fail Balinor in that regard. Malodius_ cut the connection and pressed on toward the fray.

 

****

 

Gaius mashed herbs together in Hunith’s wooden bowl. As with everyone else, he could easily see the pandemonium raging outside. Self-preservation urged to get to safety. Still Duty had him prepare medical supplies for the inevitable injuries to come. Strips of clean linen hung drying by the fire. Rosemary, basil, valerian root and other herbs’ aromas cleared his mind. Still Concern dogged his thinking. He glanced out the window.

People rushed by; their emotions clearly mixed. A thunder of hoof beats approached.

_Where are you, Merlin? Please tell me he had the common sense to keep his head down!_ The Eyebrow arched. His heart beat faster yet. Sweat condensed on his forehead. Of course he knew better than that. He’d advise Merlin to secrete himself behind some hedge or in the trees. The last thing he wanted was for his former charge to end up captured, killed or worse.

Still it was Merlin. That meant charging into the fray…no matter what the elderly physician wanted.

Gaius shook his head. _He would do that especially in front of the Princess._ He sighed. A frown crinkled his mouth. _How could this be happening? Mithian should know she and Merlin can’t be together. Even if the law says they can, Reality will never allow it. Arthur will squash any hope of such a thing. Her father will think better of it. She’s desperate for a suitable husband. That’s all there is to it._

“Gaius, we need to go!” Hunith urged from the doorway.

“Go? Certainly we’re safer here than out in the open,” he countered.

“There’s a large group of armed cavalry coming this way. We need to go. Now!” she disagreed. She grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry. I know you’re preparing for afterwards. We have to be alive first.”

Blancheflor hustled into the dwelling. “Master Gaius is right. He is safer here than out there. We’re surrounded.”

“Surrounded?” Hunith rushed back out. She ran several steps toward the common area. She stopped and stared.

A ring of mounted knights encircled them. _Sol’s_ light glinted off of their armor. Torches burned in their hands.

_Merlin? Where are you?_ Hunith couldn’t help but worry. As with Gaius, she knew her son would seek out the fighting. She anticipated that Merlin would sacrifice himself for everyone else. _Hopefully Sir Gawain found him. Without his armor though, how much help will Gawain be?_ She managed to avoid a couple of her neighbors running around in circles. Panic burned through the air. She felt a strong hand clamp down on her shoulder and jumped.

“Come with me, Hunith. We should stand together,” Percival directed. 

“Sir Percival? Where are Merlin and the others? They should be here. What….?” Hunith demanded. 

“Aye. They should be.” He drew his sword. Purpose glinted from his eye and toward several of the mounted invaders as if to say ‘This sword waits for your hearts. If any of you are man enough to try it, I will make you hurt for it!’ He tugged at her arm. “Come now.”

She relented without much more fuss. _Merlin, be safe. Have the sense to keep Princess Mithian away until this mess passes._ She followed Percival back toward her dwelling. “There’s nowhere to go.” She saw Blancheflor securing a breastplate on herself. “I’d think you’d help with the evacuation.”

“Look around. We’re cut off.” Blancheflor inspected her blade. Then she sheathed it into the waiting scabbard. She rubbed Percival’s arm. “Take care. We have much to talk about.”

“That we do. I’d ask the same of you,” Percival concurred. His lips brushed Amor’s strokes across her forehead. “I love you.”

“As I do you. And….” Blancheflor perked her ear. “Yes! They’re here!”

From the western meadow, Battle’s sounds echoed forth. A symphony of metallic clanging jarred everyone back to their senses. Above it all, a deep blood curdling roar shook them further up still. 

To the southeast, a loud explosion shook the earth. Ozone’s stench clogged noses in its path. In turnabout, the invaders’ cries could be heard clearly.

From above, the clouds parted. Kilgarrah and Aithusa swept through the portal. They hovered overhead as if regarding the battle on the whole. Then they engaged the Mercians with fire, tail and taloned feet.

“Strange enough that Ywain’s creature fights with us. Now dragons as well?” Percival asked in disbelief. He stared at the sky for a heartbeat. 

“We have our opportunity. Malodius serves Rodor and Nemeth. The dragons come as if bade by a force. We should help them.” Blancheflor nodded to firm his resolve and hers. 

In a mix of advance toward the village and retreat from the external reinforcements, the Mercians spilled into view. A few still flung torches toward thatched roofs and looted. Most though only wanted to get away from the monstrous onslaught.

Who, it seemed, surrounded whom?

Percival raised his sword. With one last glance toward his beloved, he ran toward the enemy. With one monstrous shout, he crossed swords with the invaders.

The battle was on…..


	13. Emrys Tips His Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin reveals himself in more ways than one....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big reveal here. Also Happy New Year in advance!

Chapter 12 [South Meadow—A Quarter Turn of the Hourglass Earlier]

Merlin surveyed their surroundings with care. From the shouts and noise, he deduced that their worst fear was breathing right down their necks. He inhaled deeply and pondered what to do next. He eyed the woods about thirty yards to their right. Given Gawain’s state of preparedness (so to speak), he didn’t want to risk a confrontation. Still his heart tugged at him. He wanted to defend his home village. _At least the others are there. Malodius did tell me to get the Princess to safety._

Mithian inspected her crossbow bolts. She tested the weapon’s bowstring. She squinted toward the north. By now, she noted the billows of smoke rising from the burning thatch. “We can offer another flank for the Mercians to consider.”

“Princess, please! Cedric would take you prisoner. He’d use you against our kingdom!” Britomart argued. She bristled. “You know how I hate retreat. In this case, it’s the only sensible solution. Remember what King Rodor asked. He wanted you to be careful!”

Merlin sighed. “I’m not saying we can’t help. Princess, listen to Britomart. We can head for the woods. Help is coming for the village.”

“Yeah but they’re still outnumbered. So are we. And….” Gawain winced. “Bloody Hell!”

“Now what? Can’t you keep your resolve? We…” Britomart followed the knight’s eyes. She stiffened. “Milady! We have to go!”

“I’m not running,” Mithian asserted. She checked her quiver once again. “I will not desert our comrades.” She quirked an eyebrow at the maid. “I know you mean well. Still a leader doesn’t run.”

“A leader knows retreat. Don’t be…be…like Arthur… Bloody Princess charges in whatever the odds! And….” Gawain hissed low. “Shit!”

A dozen Mercian knights veered away from their counterparts. They galloped away from the besieged village and rode straight south….

…straight toward the quartet in question….

“We have to go! NOW! Princess, Gawain has a point!” Merlin insisted. _I won’t see you get yourself killed!_

_And you aren’t the boss of me, Merlin._ Mithian narrowed her eyes. _They were outnumbered three to one. The knights were better equipped. Well at least conventionally speaking. Don’t even think of using your magic. I won’t have you being exposed!_

_They haven’t seen us yet._ Merlin weighed the options. He flexed his hands into his pocket. At that point, his fingers touched glass. “I have an idea.”

“An idea? You’re just going to wave your hands? I’m sure those guys will just lie down for you, Mate,” Gawain protested.

“Something like that.” He bowed his head. He pulled the vial from his pocket. “I need a cloak and a promise from Gawain and Britomart.”

“Merlin, this really isn’t the time!” Mithian disagreed. 

“Seriously? Merlin, you know I have your back. Whatever is in that vial, it had better work!” Gawain told him.

“Whatever it is, if Princess Mithian is all right with it then I am as well,” Britomart agreed conditionally. She drew two swords and handed one to Gawain. “Take this, you Knave. Just don’t cut yourself on it.”

“Yeah well…just because you have the pants and I’m wearing the skirt right now doesn’t mean….” Gawain snapped back half-seriously.

Mithian shook her head. The knights drew closer. Worse the pursuers had trapped them. She took her own cloak off and handed it to Merlin. “Do it. Just be careful.” She pulled him to her. Her lips smashed down on his.

Gawain stared. If they’d been at the tavern, he’d be cheering, whooping and buying Merlin lots of drinks to celebrate. On the battlefield, well…. “Must be something if she kisses you out of it. Nice!”

Merlin gasped. As he drew her cloak around his shoulders, he looked deeply into her eyes. _Now and forever, Princess…._

_Now and forever, my Warlock. Just don’t be a Prat,_ Mithian countered.

_Gawain fulfills that quota._ Merlin took the lid off of the vial. He downed a third of the cobalt fluid before sealing it again. Then he ground his teeth. _“M 'aois!”_ He spasmed and shook. His hair lengthened. The white beard sprouted from his face and grew out. Wrinkles cut into his facial features.

Mithian felt a surge of energy and power shoot through herself from Merlin. She wavered on her feet. _What’s going on? What was in that?_

_An agin’ spell. Complain, complain, complain!_ the Warlock ranted.

“Whatever’s happening, it’d better be faster!” Britomart insisted. She raised her sword and tensed.

Reynald rode into the circle. A predatory smirk spread across his face. While he wasn’t sure about the spasming man or the other man in the dress, he recognized his prize almost immediately. “Princess Mithian of Nemeth, how good it is to see you.”

“Sir Reynald of Mercia, I wish I could say the same. Pull back your men and leave now,” Mithian ordered. She raised her crossbow again. “I won’t ask again.”

“Seems you’re outnumbered. Lower your weapon and come with me. King Cedric wants you.” Reynald drew his sword. “It’s a fool’s errand. I’ll even get help for your sick friend there.”

Emrys stood. “Sick? SICK? Everyone has an opinion. You think you’re so smart?” He pulled his hood back revealing his face. “Only fool’s you, Prat!” His eyes glowed. _“Thalla!”_ He slapped the ground.

In response, the earth shook. The spell exploded out in all directions. Red and yellow energies cascaded across the area. Mithian, Gawain and Britomart were knocked off of their feet. Reynald and the Mercian knights literally flew backwards into the woods and back toward the village.

“What the…?” Gawain recoiled. He raised the sword. “HEY! You…you have magic! You really have magic?”

Emrys snorted. “And how are you smart enough to know how to put your armor on? I’ve always been bailing you out! I’ve used magic in so many battles! An’ before you ask, NO, I didn’t kill Uther even if that royal Prat thinks otherwise.” He rolled his eyes. “Yeah it’s me. I jus’ don’t need Arthur’s crap. Besides Morgana loves me like this.” He smirked sarcastically. 

Gawain gulped. Disbelief numbed his mind. He’d known Merlin since that bar brawl. They fought together. They’d put up with Arthur’s pratishness. They’d drank together on occasion. The servant had been cool. He’d shown a spine on the battlefield. But this? Using magic? And in this way? Seriously?

Mithian blinked in awe. She’d seen Merlin use minor magic to help her. He’d saved her life. But still…he just leveled an armored patrol with a single thought. Worse he’d aged himself almost sixty years to do it. She shook her head. “Amazing. I knew but you topped yourself.”

“We aim to please,” Emrys spat crassly. “Now let’s go.”

“Wait!” Britomart turned to Mithian. “You knew? About Merlin and….?”

Mithian looked to Emrys and then to the other couple. She sighed. “Yes. That’s how he saved my life. He prevented our capture.” She patted the elderly man’s arm. “And he has yet another deed.”

“Another deed?” Gawain wondered. “If you want a night with him, Princess, we can arrange that. I….”

“That’s not what she’s getting at, you Oaf!” Britomart slapped him. She smiled at Mithian. _He’s done it. He’s really done it!_

“Yak! Yak! Yak! Talk later! This ain’t the bloody tavern!” Emrys groused. He pointed at the sky. “Stoirm!”

Overhead ebony clouds swept in. They darkened the sky to make it almost seem like night. Thunder boomed. Lightning flared across the skies. Fiery tendrils charred the ground and separated the combatants. Howling winds bowled the Mercian knights off of their horses leaving them as easy prey for the peasants and their weapons.

“Hrmph! Now that’s taking care of things!” Emrys bragged. He winked ever so subtly at Mithian. “An’ everyone’s safe.”

Mithian nodded. “Indeed. And Arthur has a problem with you?”

“He would if he knew. Bloody hell! You just…” Gawain cut in. Uncertainty paled his face. His eyes widened. He gulped.

“Always have, you Clot Pole. You just never noticed. Maybe she’s right!” Emrys declared. He could see that the dragons and their other allies had all but finished the Mercians’ efforts. “An’ that is that!” 

Mithian nodded. She marveled at the attack’s specific aims. Despite the destructive force, the village remained largely unharmed except for the burns in the thatch areas. “We can hope the injuries remained minimal. Meantime, Merlin, can you reverse this? I appreciate what you did. It’s just….” She cringed at the crinkled elderly appearance.  
“You don’t like geezers. Picky! Picky!” Emrys teased. He pulled the blue vial out again. He drank the rest of it. Once again he shuddered and twitched. His hair shortened and darkened. His beard disappeared. His skin regained its youthful vigor. 

Merlin sucked in a composing breath. “It never gets any easier doing that.” He took the cloak off and returned it to Mithian. “Thanks. I didn’t want anyone recognizing me.”

“That ain’t going to be a problem,” Gawain told him. “I still can’t believe you did that stuff! You’re a sorcerer! A bloody sorcerer!”

“Magic in itself isn’t a bad thing. It’s the user’s intent which makes it good or bad,” Britomart told him.

“Indeed so.” Mithian leaned close. Her lips brushed across Merlin’s cheek. “And your skill saved lives today. You saved us.”

“Princess, I just did the right thing.” Merlin bowed his head. “I wasn’t sure that using my magic openly was the right thing to do. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Right thing? Merlin, you flattened an army singlehandedly! You cleaned up the mess! And you’re not gloating about it.” Gawain put his hand out. “Now that was something else.”

Merlin clasped it. Relief flooded through himself. “Thanks. I didn’t know what to expect.”

Gawain made a rude noise. “Merlin, you’re still you. I’ll have to get used to the whole fire and brimstone thing. Still I ain’t going to let Arthur burn you at the stake. You ain’t Morgana.”

“I’ll agree there.” Mithian rubbed Merlin’s shoulder. Elation warmed her heart. “We will talk more of this later, Merlin. Meantime, can you get on my horse? We’ll ride together. Britomart, perhaps you might do the same for our wayward knight?”

“Wayward….? Hey! I’m not the one who dressed me like this! Am I, Merlin?” Gawain retorted with a bit of steam spewing from his ears.

“It was necessary. We needed to slip by the Southrons. That was the only option.” Merlin coughed. He smirked at Mithian.

She giggled. _Merlin, that really isn’t fair. Gawain, for all of his irreverence, is a loyal friend._

_Oh I know. He does enjoy his stunts. Admit it. You had a good laugh at Arthur’s expense._

_Oh I did. Serves him right. Just remember, Merlin. What goes around comes around,_ Mithian advised. She mounted the horse in back of him. She put her arms around his waist. _How’s that?_

_Uh…all right._ Merlin gulped. Giddiness and Warmth rushed up and down his spine. A goofy grin spread across his face. Gawain’s frown ruined the moment. “What’s with you?”

“You make fun of me? How about you doin’ the geezer thing and bugging Percival and me?” Gawain retorted.

“I had to make sure Morgana and everyone would blame Emrys for the magic,” Merlin explained. 

Mithian blinked. “You’re Emrys? The Emrys? As in….?”

“So the druids call me. Lot of stories. I….” Merlin started to clarify.

“Stories? Merlin, look at what you just did! Whatever. I’d say the stories are true,” Gawain disagreed.

Mithian regarded the man before herself with even more regard. She grinned at him. “Well I don’t fear him. All the more reason for things to change.” _And they will, my Warlock._

_Her warlock?_ Merlin gulped. Granted Desire lightened his mood despite the circumstances. Still he hadn’t dreamed she’d want him like that…

…at least not until that moment anyway….

_Yes. Just like you can be my Prince. You’ve done it, Merlin._ Mithian squeezed his hand.

“Yeah I’m sure,” Gawain chortled. He was willing to set Merlin up with the Princess and tease him afterwards for it.

Britomart climbed up into her saddle. “You talk too much! Get up here. We don’t have all day.”

Gawain crinkled his nose. He narrowed his eyes. “Merlin, how is it you get the attention and I get…?”

“Get what? I could leave you there,” Britomart sniped. “Come on! Quit your griping already!”

“After this, I’m really going to need a drink.” Gawain climbed up into the saddle behind Britomart. “I suppose I should just hang onto the saddle, Your Nunship?”

“You may hang onto me if you can behave, You Oaf. Besides I believe you’re the one who’s taken the habit. It suits you,” Britomart replied. She snorted.

“It suits me she says.” Gawain rolled his eyes as they started back for the village. 

Rather hard to judge the book by its cover when the cover had been ripped off. Wasn’t it?


	14. Picking Up Some Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle ends, Percival and others discover outcomes for Ealdor and beyond.

Chapter 13 [Ealdor’s Common]

As the magical storm passed, Sol peeked once more through the thinning clouds. Sunbeams laden with faerie dust washed over the devastated village. The wind wafted odors through the air. Spits of rain drizzled down from the sky.

Battle had scarred the village and surrounding meadows. Despite its brevity, the damage remained for all to see. Thatched roofs still smoldered. Heraldic banners flapped in the stiff wind. Some of them the wind claimed for its own. The huts and houses bore cracks and holes in their walls. In some cases, doors and window shutters lay broken and splintered on the dirt floor. A few animals lay unmoving and unfeeling in the fields beyond. In addition, a few residents stared at the sky through cold and unresponsive eyes. Likewise many Mercian knights had shared their fate.

That left the survivors to survey the damage, rebuild and move ahead…..

 

****

 

Percival sheathed his sword. He sucked in a deep breath and eyed the sky. _How did such things come to pass? How did such magic happen here?_ He walked about taking in the scene. His mind still noted how badly the invaders outnumbered the defenders. Even with their Nemethian allies, it didn’t look good.

And then something turned the tide. Ywain’s lion ripped hard into the Mercian line; his claws and teeth rending armor and gashing forth blood. The unnatural glow in the clouds brought forth the dragons. And then that sudden storm blew all back effectively ending the hostilities.

_Who did this?_ He set his jaw. While he didn’t necessarily agree that magic in itself was evil, this display reminded him of its potential in that regard. Just as an unarmed peasant couldn’t fight a knight, so too was the knight all but helpless before a master sorcerer. He’d seen enough of Morgana. That old man back in the woods almost stank of Menace. _Can they be controlled?_

“Percival!” Blancheflor cheered. She rushed to his side.

His face brightened. He embraced her. His heart lightened. His mood gladdened by her presence. “Forgive me. I was worried. Are you hurt?”

“Nay. We were fortunate.” She smiled. Her eyes glittered in the dim daylight. “We lost nary a knight. The Mercians however…” She sighed and bowed her head. 

He nodded. “Morgana played her gambit well. She has us on the run. She holds our homes. Worse she provoked Cedric. And that is another issue.” He took her hand. “You should see this.”

“Why? What happened? I know we’re here. Yes we should have asked first. Still we aren’t invading. And….” She followed his lead around the barn and toward the northern field. “Where are we going?”

“Here.” He sighed. Then he raised his hand and pointed toward a group of dark armored corpses. “There isn’t going to be any negotiating with Cedric.”

She saw Mercia’s King lying in the midst of his fallen comrades. A dark stain surrounded the tear rent in his sur coat by an enemy sword. “Another kingdom lay vulnerable to Morgana now.” She breathed in deeply calming herself. 

“We crossed swords. I tried not to kill him because of the balance. Still battle makes us do things. I had to defend myself. He thrust at me several times with his blade. I finally had to stab him,” he indicated. He leaned over the fallen King. With a gloved hand, he gently closed the dead man’s eyes. He laid the sword on Cedric’s chest and set the other’s hands on the hilt.

“You honor him more than he would you, my Knight. Then again, I am not surprised.” She rubbed Percival’s arm. “What a tragedy this is. He had no heir.” She rubbed her forehead. “Bad enough that Meleagant lusts after our village. Now a Mercian civil war could draw us into more danger.”

Percival nodded acknowledging that point. His mind weighed the entire situation. “If only Arthur or Princess Mithian were here. I’m sure they could recommend a course of action.” He grimaced as his words recalled how the rulers had gone missing. “We should send out a search party.”

_Or perhaps we could assist?_

The couple looked up to see Kilgarrah watching them. They tensed not knowing what to expect.

_We are allies despite your fear. Aithusa, Malodius and I all serve a greater purpose. You do as well. I can assure you that the Princess, the servant, Merlin, Sir Gawain and her maid are safe. They survived the battle. All accounted well for themselves,_ Kilgarrah indicated.

“Thank the goddess,” she expressed. “And Merlin played his part?”

_Oh yes. His intervention was crucial. Thanks to him, your Princess and maid are still alive,_ the Great Dragon revealed. 

“Merlin always plays his part,” Percival agreed. “After this, I plan to remind Arthur about knighting him.”

“You should.” Blancheflor concurred. She exhaled contentedly. _Now the die is cast. Merlin has accomplished his third task. Mithian, you should be practically floating over this!_ “I’m sure Sir Gawain would be willing to support Merlin?”

“Try and stop him from doing so.” Percival turned back to Kilgarrah. “While I’m not sure how I feel about magic, I’m grateful for your aid. Perhaps we can fight together again?”

_Nothing would give Aithusa or me greater pleasure, Good Knight. As she can tell you, Aithusa works with the emerald clad ones. Work through your own tasks. It seems a task has fallen to you._ Kilgarrah motioned toward Cedric.

“What?” Percival asked not understanding.

She nodded. “The dragon is correct. Mercian law states that if the King dies in battle, the heir takes the throne. If there’s no heir, he who defeated the King becomes King himself.” Her eyes beamed into his. “You’re a King now, my Love.’

_I would agree with her. You fought bravely. I saw your effort. I am sure the dragon lord will concur_ , Kilgarrah chimed in. He nodded respectfully.

“Dragon lord? I heard they were all dead,” she doubted. Of course she’d heard tales of such warriors and their dragons fighting for Britannia in the days prior to the Purge. She’d often wondered how the symbiotic collaboration between parties could work in battle.

_There is one left. He was here today. Alas he departed,_ Kilgarrah stated half-truthfully.

Percival frowned. As with Kilgarrah, he appreciated the dragon lord’s aid. Still he knew Arthur and others would either try to control or eliminate that person. He feared that said contentiousness would drive that person down the dark path, make him or her like Morgana. Worse yet, he could see how politics could ally that person with Morgana. “And would that person be a threat?”

“Percival, how can you say that? Such talent is to be treasured and embraced! Perhaps we should take a lesson from this carnage around us,” she admonished. “This is the Purge’s bitter harvest! We have to change! This has to be the start. Otherwise who’s left? What’s left?”

_Well put, Lady. Perhaps in your kingdom, you can make changes? You can be the example. Consider that._ Kilgarrah flapped his wings and took off into the sky. 

Percival curled his lip. Consideration had given him a lot to digest on that day. He’d need to think.

“Let’s find Princess Mithian and the others. Then we can find out about King Arthur and Gwen,” she urged.

He nodded and followed her lead. 

Already Change had made its mark, it seemed….

 

****

 

_Malodius_ licked his paws in disgust. He had little stomach for the battle. Still Duty urged him onward. Alongside Ywain, Galahad and their comrades, he’d lashed into the enemy. Lament burned within him. _Princess Mithian and Merlin didn’t think that such things could happen by being here. Still how did Cedric find us so quickly? This is so remote._ He snarled. _The Witch._

_If you mean Morgana, I’m sure she had a reason. These humans barge into someone else’s land. Why shouldn’t they defend it?_ Aithusa pointed out. 

_The bloodshed is unnecessary, Young One. One day you’ll understand, Malodius_ countered.

_And maybe Arthur should let beings like us and magic users have a voice too? Morgana only wants that. She pushes back against the Brat King. Maybe if Merlin weren’t so busy playing the clumsy oaf and did what he’s SUPPOSED TO DO, this wouldn’t be an issue,_ Aithusa supposed.

_Malodius_ conceded a nod. _We can hope for such things. Still Morgana didn’t have to whip Cedric into a frenzy. There should have been room for talk and compromise. Now Chaos will reign._

_Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe your order might fall apart. Someone can do the job,_ Aithusa presumed. She listened through the link. _Kilgarrah found him._

_Him?_

_The new King._ Aithusa snorted allowing a couple of puffs of smoke. _One of Arthur’s knights? Really? Here we go again!_

_Malodius_ shook his head and mane. _Did you not just talk of a new order? Allow him a chance. I have faith in the Lady Blancheflor. She and Sir Percival love each other. They will be good together._

_On that we agree, Great Lion,_ the White Dragon conceded.

_On that and a great many other things, Malodius_ assured her. _Now let us lend a hand._

 

****

 

Tristan frowned at the scene around himself. He only wanted to get horses and maybe a hot meal. Then he and Isolde could ride off in search of their wagon and cargo. Without their usual crew, they proved easy prey for the Southrons. He gnashed his teeth. Especially after losing everything over some inner-Pendragon spat, he had no interest in rushing into a war. 

Isolde, however, raised her sword and charged forward. Gratitude and Sentimentality moved her at such times. She’d argued about having friends. Then she arched that daring eyebrow and left him no choice.

Ah…his Isolde….

They’d fought back to back against Cedric’s best knights. Almost in an intricate dance, the two smugglers crossed swords, deflected blows and stabbed the enemy. For a quarter of the hourglass, their harmony seemed to carry on.

That is until the sky turned dark…and the bizarre storm came out of nowhere….

This is the work of magic. He frowned at the lion and dragons nearby. He sheathed his sword. Who knows what such creatures can do? He found his beloved being tended to by Gaius. “What’s that?”

She snorted. “It’s a scratch. Nothing we both haven’t seen before.”

“You were quite fortunate,” Gaius diagnosed. “I cleansed the wound and bandaged it. If anything, you’ll have a tale to tell from it. And for what it’s worth, I appreciate how both of you were here to help.”

“We might as well considering our cargo was stolen by Southrons. Can’t wait to tell our buyer about that,” Tristan lamented.

“You mean him?” Isolde motioned toward a red haired knight lying on the ground with a rather grisly wound in his chest. “Pity I had to kill him.”

“Can this get any better?” Tristan frowned at the sight of their late customer. 

Gaius shrugged but gave no reply. _And where are Merlin, the Princess, Gawain, Arthur and Gwen in the midst of all of this?_ “Would you like me to look at you?”

“No thank you, _Sirrah_. I’m all right,” Tristan declined. 

Isolde rolled her eyes. “I’ve learned not to press such matters, Master Gaius.” She turned to Tristan. “Perhaps we should ask that Princess if we can take some chain mail or weapons? Maybe they’d give us a horse each?” 

“That’s the least that they can do.” Tristan rubbed her shoulder. “I’m just glad we both came through it all.” He smiled for her benefit.

She returned it with a warm glance into his eyes. She patted his hand. “Perhaps.” She stood. “Thank you, Master Gaius. What do we owe you?”

“For that? It’s my pleasure, Isolde. I’m thankful you could help us,” Gaius expressed. “I’m sure Princess Mithian and the Nemeth knights will say the same.”

“It isn’t safe to be by ourselves on the battlefield,” Tristan declared. 

“And it’s good to make friends,” Isolde reminded him. She waved Ywain over. “How did your men make out?”

“Some knights are being tended to. I can’t believe we lost nary a man though.” Ywain ran his hand through his hair. He shook his head. “The goddess blessed us with that storm. Truly a miraculous thing! The only matter remains of our missing friends. We’re searching for Princess Mithian, Sir Gawain and the two servants now.”

“Merlin’s missing?” Gaius turned to Ywain. He knew Merlin could do small scale effects with wind and the elements. He’d heard the Warlock tell how he’d done just that against the brigands in this very village years earlier. _Still he’s not powerful enough to do it on that scale?_ Worry ate at him. 

“Aye. We’ll find him. I’m sure he kept the Princess safe. This is his home village. Is it not?” Ywain assured him.

“It is indeed. I’m sure Hunith, his mother, will be a wreck. Perhaps Cedric might know more?” Gaius offered. He made up his mind to search out Hunith and provide support. If for anything else, he could deal with his own feelings.

“He’s not one to grant favors. We had to sneak through his kingdom. He’s not welcoming toward travelers in his lands,” Isolde noted.

“No he is not. In this case, he had cause to deal with our incursion. I wish though he’d have allowed Princess Mithian to explain. Morgana manipulated him to her ends. Sir Percival defeated him. At the very least, Cedric will be made to allow us safe passage from here on,” Ywain told them.

“Perhaps he can also insist that this valley be given to Camelot? Cedric cares little for this village. It is not practical for him to be here. He’s only here because King Arthur and Princess Mithian provided him with potential hostages and political gain,” Gaius surmised. “Speaking of King Arthur, has anyone seen him or Guinevere?”

“The Witch took them. That’s no mystery,” Tristan stated. “I’d suggest you look to Camelot itself. There’d you find her exulting in her triumph and taking it out on the common man.” He coughed. 

“I’m sure the Princess means to do just that,” Ywain deduced. He knew Rodor would watch the situation carefully. Still, given that Morgana lay behind the attack on Mithian and the other knights, the matter remained delicate at best. Not that either side was completely in the right, mind you. “You both fought well. Perhaps you might speak with Sir Galahad? There might be an opportunity for you in Nemeth. If nothing else, I’d value your presence there.”

Isolde’s eyes lit up. She turned to Tristan. “That would be something to think about! King Rodor’s been fair to us.”

“He’s a king like any other.” Tristan pointed out.

“Nay he is not,” Ywain argued. “He’s lenient and far more tolerant than the other rulers. He uses common sense and justice when dealing with his people. Unless you have some other place to go, I would suggest you speak with him at the very least. He would appreciate your aid to our cause today, Good Friends.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Isolde replied effectively shutting down Tristan’s expected refusal. “Meantime we should perhaps talk to Galahad?”

“Follow me then,” Ywain agreed. “Gaius, I’m sure Merlin will be found soon.”

“I’m sure. Merlin is resourceful. We just need to have faith,” Gaius assured them. After they’d headed back toward the main Nemeth party, he rubbed his forehead. _I just hope he’s all right!_


	15. Reynald's Accusations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reynald realizes that sorcery's afoot. The Nemeth contingent surrounds him.

Chapter 14 [Edge of the Clearing—A Short Time Later]

Reynald grimaced. Pain stung his flesh. His arms felt like lead. He struggled to flex his fingers. He took several burning breaths. Slowly he rolled over on his side.

Around him, his men still lay prone from the spell’s impact. Like rag dolls, they scattered around him against the trees and on the grass. Some made no sound. Others moaned and cried out. Their eyes teared streaking wet down their cheeks. 

_That bloody Princess has a sorcerer! Whatever would that old fool, Rodor, think? Even the Boy King must’ve been deceived by her. Perhaps that’s why he spurned her?_ Reynald forced himself to sit up with great effort. He inspected his armor and gear. Even as he did so, details swam in his mind. He recognized Mithian and Gawain from previous meetings. Still the sorcerer did something to change his appearance. Before Reynald and the knights had ridden up, the other man concealed his face from prying eyes. _Who was that? How did he have such magic?_ He set the notion away for future reference. He crawled slowly across the grass toward his men. 

As he did so, hoof beats reached his ears. He glanced over his shoulder. His hand drifted down toward his sword’s hilt resting against his left hip. He saw five knights clad in Nemeth green surrounding the area. 

Galahad dismounted. He shook his head at the sight of the scattered knights. “Sir Ywain, you’re with me.”

“Aye.” Ywain looked about the grassy field and bordering trees. Anxiety bubbled up within his heart. “What did this?”

“Truly strange this is.” Galahad shook his head. “This is sorcery!”

“Figured that out on your own did you?” Reynald coughed burning air from his lungs. “Who’s the sorcerer?”

“Sorcerer? We have no sorcerer with us,” Galahad disagreed.

“That old man slipped past you? Some watchful knights you are! Ask your precious Mithian and her companions! He was with her!” Reynald told them.

Galahad arched an eyebrow at the fallen knight. He wanted to deny Reynald’s claim. Still the evidence lay in clear view. He could tell that magic had taken out the entire armored troop. “I can see someone did this. We owe him our thanks. In Nemeth, we tolerate magic. It is a tool like our swords, lances or arrows. If this man did come from our lands, King Rodor would only grant him favor.”

“Come with us. The battle’s over. Cedric fell in the fighting. Camelot’s healer can treat your wounds,” Belvidere said. 

“Bad enough you all invade. You wrecked horrors on our lands! Now you’d put a puppet on the throne,” Reynald complained.

“I can’t say either way, Sir Reynald.” Galahad drew his sword. “Please give up your sword. We have litters to bear your wounded knights to the village. At least we can give treatment.”

“How big of you.” Reynald snorted. “You have unnatural creatures fighting with you.”

“Morgana Pendragon could do the same. We allow all parts of our kingdom to do their duty. _Malodius_ serves honorably. Have a care, Sir Reynald, in what you say,” Ywain pointed out. He stiffened.

“Given how you travel with that creature, I am not surprised.” Reynald ground his teeth. He slowly pulled his sword from its scabbard. Then he flung it at Galahad narrowly missing the other knight. “Take it!”

“Be grateful we’re more merciful than you, Reynald.” Galahad turned to the other knights. “Let’s get these wounded back to Ealdor. Master Gaius can treat them.”

With that, the other knights dismounted. They set to lifting the fallen onto the litters dragging behind their horses. Then they headed back toward the village beyond.

Mercy and Compassion, it seemed, could take root even where Hate had dominated. One could hope that it would blossom into something greater from there.


	16. Assessing the Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Mithian size up the situation in Ealdor. She makes a definite point to him.

Chapter 15   
[Field Heading Toward Ealdor]

Merlin kept his eyes averted from the scene around himself. Although involved in the earlier battle, Lament pushed him not to look. He cared little for the carnage and pain. He wished that both sides could’ve talked and negotiated. Instead they ended up in a battle nobody there really wanted….

…nobody wanted but Morgana that is…..

_Her rage burns at this land. How can she do this? Didn’t she fight for this place before? How could she put our friends through this? We cannot simply turn back time._ He frowned.

_No we cannot, Young Warlock. Still I do recall that someone warned you about the Witch. Now I wonder who that might’ve been?_ Kilgarrah interjected.

Merlin rolled his eyes. _I really don’t need this right now._

_You really need to learn the difference between wanting and needing things, Merlin. You were warned about her malice. Instead you preferred to play at court politics. You hoped naively that she would work out her issues. How I wish you would have listened when you had the chance to do so,_ Kilgarrah reminded him. 

_It isn’t that at all! You don’t know her! How can you wish her dead?_ Aithusa argued. _She’s kind and caring if given a chance!_

_Look around you, Aithusa. This isn’t from kindness or divine will,_ Kilgarrah disagreed.

_No. It’s from stupid humans squabbling amongst themselves. It’s from mortals turning away from the Old Religion. It’s from those Prats who play at things they’re NOT! It’s those who don’t do their duty because it isn’t CONVENIENT! Who turn their backs on their faith and push people to do the same!_ The White Dragon continued.

_We have to survive. If we come out, we’ll be burned at the stake or worse. We cannot just come out. We could not trust Morgana not to go to Uther,_ Merlin countered.

_Excuses and semantics, Merlin. On that note, I agree with Aithusa. You neglected your duty to play royal servant,_ Kilgarrah insisted.

_You all have a point,_ Mithian cut in. _We should hear and discuss all sides. We can learn from each other’s experiences. We should work with those who have different gifts than ours._ She patted his hand. “I am with you.”

“I appreciate that,” Merlin expressed. I wish you all would get that things aren’t just black and white. He looked back toward their companions. “Gawain’s still looking.”

“So let him,” Mithian advised. “You’ve hidden your abilities for years.” She exhaled sharply. “Even though I knew you had magic, I’m still dealing with what you did back there.”

“What? I was trying to protect you all!” Merlin protested.

Mithian nodded. “Of course you were. I know that. I’m in awe of you and what you can do, Merlin. Still I don’t fear you.”

“Oh and why’s that?” Merlin asked. Panic numbed his mind and pushed his heartbeat to race slightly.

“Because for all of your power, you are humble, dedicated and loving of others. Your heart bleeds for all. That makes you shine despite those rough edges you have,” she noted adding a slight teasing barb at the end.

He relaxed. _Amor_ eased his mood. Her words soothed his jangled nerves. Her tones sang serenely in his ears. He wanted to kiss her again. Still Modesty and Political Correctness moved him not to do so.

_You forget, Merlin. I can feel your emotions. It is quite all right…as long as you keep the dirt from that white armor of yours,_ Mithian teased.

_Certain Princesses are bad influences,_ Merlin jabbed back.

_What was that?_ Mithian retorted.

_Oh nothing,_ Merlin conceded not really wanting to ruin the mood.

Mithian glanced back at Merlin. Her eyes sparkled at him. A smirk playfully tugged at the sides of her mouth. See? You are learning. She raised his hand. Her lips whispered across it. _We will speak more of this after things settle down. Have faith, Merlin._

_I’ll try,_ Merlin indicated. Even if he didn’t know rightfully where they were headed at the moment, he had faith in Mithian at least.

And that was a good thing in itself…..

 

****

 

[Ealdor—A Quarter Turn of the Hourglass Later]

Mithian guided her horse through the devastated plain surrounding the village. She tried to keep her eyes focused straight ahead. Still her heart tugged at her. Regret and Lament ate at her. Even if this wasn’t Nemeth, she well understood that these people were human beings regardless of the respective social barriers between herself and them. Besides these people were as much Merlin’s _familia_ as Camelot’s royal household was. Consequently she decided to do what she could for them at the first opportunity.

“We’re a hardy lot. It will be all right,” Merlin tried to reassure her.

She arched an eyebrow. “Hardy or not, Merlin, your neighbors didn’t deserve to have this battle brought to their doorstep.” She spied Blancheflor tending to a bruised boy by a battered hut. “Blancheflor!”

“Princess Mithian, you’re safe! Forgive me for not bowing, my Lady.” Blancheflor nodded out of respect. She eased a piece of cloth under the boy’s arm and tied it off to complete the sling. “There you go. Be careful with that. All right?”

The boy nodded numbly. “Thank you.” His eyes watered.

“Of course.” Blancheflor watched him stumble away toward the square to search for his mother. Then she curtseyed. “I see Merlin and you are indeed unharmed. We heard you were in the thick of it.”

Mithian nodded. Relief and Pride beamed through her smile. She blushed almost like a school girl. “We were surrounded. Fortunately we were able to overcome their numbers with our strength of arms.” She slid off the front of the saddle. Her eyes momentarily met Merlin’s and sparkled into his. Thank you again.

Caught in mid-dismount, Merlin lost track of that and his surroundings. Numbness stole the feeling in his legs. He sighed dreamily. Unfortunately he tumbled and fell to the ground; his rear end splatting into the muddy grass and hay less than ceremoniously.

“Merlin! Are you…?” Mithian gasped. Panic seized her. 

“I’m fine. It’s okay.” Merlin stood slowly. He stretched the stiffness. “I’ll get some liniment from Mother. Sorry.”

Gawain coughed.

“Would you care to join him?” Britomart chided.

“Would you like to join him? Nag. Nag. Nag,” Gawain parroted. Sarcasm dripped from his words.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder. His eyes glinted briefly. _“Sa 'phillein,”_ he whispered in mid-cough.

Gawain jumped. Under the skirt, something sharp jabbed him. “YEOW!” He managed to grab onto the saddle.

_Merlin, really?_ Mithian shook her head. 

“Stuff happens to all of us. Don’t look at me.” Merlin shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. Gawain has it coming to him. He’ll deal with it.

“ _Fortuna_ awards us all according to our merit, my Lady.” Britomart looked at Gawain before dismounting. “Perhaps you might want a stool ere you fall head first, my Good Knight.”

Gawain rolled his eyes. “I think I can manage. Thanks anyway. I don’t want Blanche telling Percy. I’ll never live it down.” His lips wrinkled as if cradling a sour apple. Once his feet touched the ground, he added, “See? I can do that.”

“Will wonders never cease?” Britomart retorted. “Perhaps you might wish to make sure your skirt doesn’t flap too much in the breeze?” Impetuousness curled her mouth into a smirk.

Blancheflor sighed. “I’m sure Percival would agree it suits you, Sir Gawain. Maybe if you kinder to Merlin, he might find a pair for you?”

Gawain shook his head. “Yeah I bet he will.” He scanned the area taking in the damage and dead alike. Strangely (at least to him), he saw mostly Mercian sur coats and banners strewn about the field. “Ywain and the others good?”

“How many of our good knights fell here?” Mithian asked.

“Master Gaius treated Sir Samuel, Sir Randolph and Sir Aethelstan for their wounds. None of ours fell on the field. Praise be!” Blancheflor sucked in a relieved breath.

“And Percy? He’s okay. Right?” Gawain pressed.

“Yes, Sir Gawain, Sir Percival is unharmed. He surveys the field as we speak. He accounted well for himself,” Blancheflor assured him. “The Mercians will not trouble anyone for the foreseeable future.”

“I’ll make sure Cedric will hold to that,” Mithian vowed. “If he hasn’t skulked off, I will demand terms. One of those will be that this valley and village will be ceded to Camelot.” Her fingers brushed across Merlin’s hand. “Ealdor has endured enough suffering and uncertainty.”

Blancheflor nodded. “That, I’m sure, will not be an issue. I’m sure the new king will be most willing to negotiate.”

“New king?” Mithian stared at her friend. “Cedric would not give up the throne. Let’s speak with him. I would not usurp his throne for simply defending his domain. Granted we have our reasons for being here. Still we should be fair to him as well. Where is he?” Seeing her friend turn white, she queried, “Blancheflor?”

“Follow me.” Blancheflor led the quartet from the village’s edge. About ten steps into the beaten and broken grass, she stopped abruptly. “Look down.”

To their left, Cedric lay in as stately a pose as could be managed.

Gawain whistled. “Cedric could fight. Wonder who did that?” Admiration lit up in his eyes for whoever had claimed that victory.

“It’s a pity that this had to happen,” Mithian lamented. Worry over further instability in the Five Kingdoms washed across her. “This will cause civil war for sure. Sir Gawain’s question is a good one. The victor now rules Mercia. Who would that be?”

Blancheflor exhaled sharply. “Sir Percival fought Cedric honorably. He tried not to kill him. Alas! Cedric would not yield.” She glanced to Merlin. “It seems Change looms for the future after this. Doesn’t it?”

Merlin stiffened. “What? It’s not like I’m staying. I want to help my friends and neighbors. Still….” 

“Still the Princess will whine if anyone else has to polish his armor,” Gawain sassed. He regarded Merlin. Respect showed through his banter. “Ol Merlin did his job and more. Arthur can get himself another servant. Time for someone to get his due….”

“Gawain, it’s not a big deal,” Merlin protested.

“…and buy us all a cask apiece after this crap,” Gawain continued. He smirked. “And a new suit of armor too.”

“And where’s that going to come from? I’m a servant not a Prince or something,” Merlin doubted.

“Uh huh. Yeah right.” Gawain clapped Merlin on the shoulder. “Don’t be a prat, Merlin. Opportunity’s knocking.” He motioned to Mithian. “Her Worship really likes you. Maybe…you know?”

Merlin flushed. Embarrassment blossomed in crimson hues across his cheeks. Insecurity unsteadied him. His eyes met his Princess’. _How I wish. I want it._

Mithian smiled. _And I want nothing more._ She squeezed his hands. “That is a point, Sir Gawain, besides the fact that I am standing here. I only have to report this to King Rodor. Merlin, you have done it! We have witnesses to your actions today.” 

“I do my duty, Princess.” Merlin kneeled. Hope and Desire burned brightly inside of his chest. Disbelief weighed on him.

“Merlin, stop!” Blancheflor eyed him. “From what Sir Percival says, you more than do that!”

“I’ll second that,” Gawain chimed in. “Arthur can get George to polish his silver for a change.”

“The palace wouldn’t be standing long,” Merlin noted. He could well imagine the castle shaking from Arthur’s bellowing.

“That’s his issue not yours,” Mithian insisted. She looked to Merlin. “You wish to do your duty?”

“Always,” Merlin affirmed.

Mithian arched an amused eyebrow. “Very well. Then rise and stand before me.”

“As you wish,” Merlin complied.

“Stand still.” Mithian embraced him. Her lips claimed his. _Amor_ flowed from hers into his. Her hands caressed his back gently. For several long heartbeats, she continued. Then she released him. “And you’re welcome.” She smirked at him.

“Now THAT is more like it!” Gawain pumped his fists.

“Gawain, I….” Merlin gasped. “What if we’re seen?”

“So? Let the prats deal with it. You’ve earned this, my Prince.” Mithian embraced him again. “Believe that. Shall we find your mother?”

Merlin nodded. The reference to Hunith stirred him back to their surroundings. “We should do that. Come on!” He rushed off toward his mother’s hut.

“Perhaps, Britomart, you might assist Lady Blancheflor?”Mithian suggested.

“I would be delighted. With your leave, she and I can occupy a certain other person out of trouble?” Britomart suggested.

“I believe we can manage that,” Blancheflor agreed.

“Then you may do so.” Mithian sighed. “Time to tell Hunith. I hope Merlin can get through it.” She walked briskly in the direction which Merlin had gone. Her butterflies banged against the sides of her stomach. Anxiety shook her. Still Determination would not be swayed.

Change indeed washed over the landscape. The hurdles disappeared. She would have her Prince.

Count on that…..


	17. Percival Steps Toward His Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle, Percival surveys the damage. As he does so, he meets up with Nemeth's knights and some of his new subjects.

Chapter 16 [Southwest of Ealdor]

Percival stalked through the meadow. His mind stewed over the day’s events. He questioned the crossroads looming in front of himself. Just a week earlier, he’d been a simple knight. He served Arthur and Camelot. Granted he pined for Blancheflor but they’d corresponded. He treated everyone well. He kept Gawain and the other knights from danger be it on the battlefield or in the tavern. He knew Duty’s path and strode down it. 

Now? Not so much….

Battle just turned the world on its ear.

His stance? By his victory over Cedric, he was Mercia’s _de facto_ King. He drew closer to Blancheflor against all else; the long ago vow weighing heavily on his mind and soul. He desired peace with all yet knew war against Camelot (under Morgana) and Cawdor would be inevitable. He had knights under him whom he hadn’t met save across swords on the plain. He had allies he barely knew save for their importance to the balance. Priority pushed the familiar scenes and taverns of Camelot further away. The old village slid further back into _Memoria’s_ domain.

_I wish I knew more._ He set his jaw firmly. His boots tread one step at a time. He maintained a positive attitude. No matter what, he set a good example. His eye caught the Nemeth knights’ emerald colors approaching him. He waved. 

Galahad rode up to meet him. “This is a pleasure although I do not how to address you. Perhaps I should just call you, Sire?”

Percival sighed sharply. “I am but a knight still, Sir Galahad. I regret that Cedric wouldn’t listen to reason. I tried to offer terms. In the end, I had to defend myself.”

“And yet you are now Mercia’s ruler by their own law,” Galahad insisted. “I can’t think of a better man to ascend to the throne under the circumstances. I’m sure Princess Mithian will say the same.” He extended his hand. “If I may? Congratulations are in order.”

“I will do what I can.” Percival clasped hands with Galahad. He looked over the armored troop. “You all seem in good order. Who are those on the litters?”

“Your fallen soldiers,” Galahad reported. “We were taking them to Master Gaius for treatment. Strange. They have nary a gash or cut from a blade on them. We found them scattered like so much flotsam before a storm.”

“The mysterious sorcerer and Dragon Lord,” Percival confirmed. He narrowed his eyes. “We’ll need to hear more about this.” He walked around the company inspecting the injured and unconscious Mercians. “These can’t be all.”

“We’re but a few of the living,” Reynald retorted. His eyes flared into Percival’s. “Many others still lie in the field unconscious. Some fell before your invading blades. Others ran for their lives. The warlock struck us down with a simple gesture. Cedric would never tolerate this!”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. You are correct, Good Knight.” Percival returned Reynald’s stare with his own. “Still when he pressed our duel, Cedric forced his own end. I asked him to stop. I had no intention of taking his life, lands and crown. Still what’s done is done. I am obligated to rule over you all as best I can. Sir…?”

“Sir Reynald, Sire.” Reynald spat on the ground. “Perhaps you slew our King. That doesn’t guarantee you respect.”

“Have a care! He is your King!” Ywain scolded.

Percival shook his head. “He has a point. Having a crown may grant me access to the throne. In itself, it doesn’t make me a King. Love and Duty toward the people do that. I would earn that respect. In turn, I would expect that returned to me as well.” He stooped beside the fallen first knight. “I am no usurper. I would rule you fairly.”

“And you’d draw us into this war? We have issues enough!” Reynald complained.

“Cedric did that when he defended this land. We do what we have to. I still am tied to Camelot for the nonce. Still Mercia is a part of the Five Kingdoms. We stand with everyone else. That being said, I may not be a Mercian but I will respect your customs and traditions. I might introduce a few things from Camelot. Lady Blancheflor will have a few suggestions, I’m sure. Let us learn to live together. Give me a chance, Sir Reynald. I only wish to prove myself not impose my will.” He held out a hand.

“He speaks the truth, Sir Reynald. I’ve known him since our childhood,” Belvidere interjected. “He and Lady Blancheflor have others’ care in mind before their own. Take his hand.”

Reynald rolled his eyes. He wanted to challenge the upstart himself. Still he understood that in his current state, he’d die more than likely. “For now then, we shall try.” He clasped hands with Percival.

“And that is all I would ask of you. Thank you,” Percival expressed. “Perhaps we might speak later on the army? I would know of the fallen, wounded and those who fled.”

“Look around you! Your incursion has left much for the scavengers! And all for a pathetic village? I expect we might still have a few dozen knights and men at arms remaining. Still they can barely stand much less pick up a sword,” Reynald snapped.

Percival exhaled sharply. Patience frayed before the angry knight’s recriminations. “I would have you all tended to. Then we shall speak further.” He spied a riderless horse at the back of the company. “Sir Galahad, perhaps I might borrow the horse?”

“It is now yours. Perhaps you’d allow Sir Ywain to accompany you?” Galahad offered.

“I could use the company. We ride the field to find Mercian survivors where they are. Then we prepare to accompany you all south to Camelot. I would see an end to this crisis before caring for Mercia,” Percival accepted. He walked over to the horse and climbed up onto its back. 

“Good priorities to have. Shall we?” Ywain agreed.

“Aye. We shall.” Percival spurred his mount and led them on a gallop toward the woods’ edge. 

Galahad’s expression darkened. He turned to Reynald. “You should be grateful. Most would’ve run you through for your attitudes and words.”

“I speak the truth!” Reynald protested.

“And yet Sir Percival is now your King. He has the Crown by Mercian law. Perhaps you might remember that? Now let’s get you and the others to the village for treatment,” Galahad reminded him before leading the group toward the waiting hamlet.

Reynald shook his head. This is a day that the world turned upside down. What happens now?

Seemed that both sides wondered the same thing…..


	18. Family Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunith gets more insight on Merlin's life at Camelot. Mithian has an offer for them both. (Gusto forth coming!)

Chapter 17 [Back in the Village]

Hunith sipped from a worn water skin. Her eyes surveyed the damage from the battle. She anticipated it would take a fortnight (at least) to patch up the wounds, repair the damaged structures and begin to feel safe again. She’d helped some of the walking wounded to Gaius for treatment. She’d managed a few poultices and slings to help her neighbors. She’d assisted in preparing the bodies of the less fortunate for the funeral later. Perhaps it came from seeing too much upheaval. Perhaps Experience had visited her too often over those winters.

Battle never made it easy on the peasants…..

She glanced around. Pride eased her pain while watching her neighbors pitching in. She saw them repairing a pen’s fence. Others led a few cows and horses back from the trees where they’d hidden themselves. Two children carried water to the workers. She also took note of a couple of Nemeth’s knights had volunteered to assist in these efforts. Gawain (once the villagers found him some breeches and a decent shirt) pitched in too.

_At least we have friends. No matter what else, we are fortunate in that regard._ She eyed the overcast sky overhead and the area around them. _Where did those dragons come from? Where did they go? It’s almost like they were led here._ She grimaced. _I thought that was the stuff of tales and made up nonsense! There are dragons?_ She strained with a broken wooden beam dragging it from the middle of the path.

“Mother, you can ask for help.”

Relief washed over her. She exhaled and smiled as Merlin rushed over. “I was afraid you’d been hurt or worse. Are you all right? Where were you?”

“I went to the usual place.” He shrugged almost like he might have years before over some magical mishap or other. “I needed to think.”

“I imagine you did. Help me get this over to the side?” She motioned with her eyes toward the other end of the beam. 

“Of course.” He lifted his end and helped her in that regard. Once they’d set it down, he embraced her. “I was worried too. I…kept us out of the way of things.” His eyes wandered not meeting hers. Uncertainty weakened his tone. His fingers flexed.

She shook her head. “Merlin, I know when you’re lying to me. I also know you too well. You were in the middle of it. Weren’t you?” She folded her arms across her chest and shot him a sharp glance.

He gulped. “Mother, we…”

The light sparked in her eyes. “Merlin, please tell me you didn’t use your magic. You can’t be seen! You know better than that!”

He ground his teeth. “Yes and no. Yes I used it. No I wasn’t recognized.” 

“Oh? And how did you do that? Merlin, those knights know what you look like now! It’s not every day somebody uses magic. They’ll tell Mercia’s new King, Morgana or whoever. You need secrecy!” She exhaled. “Did Arthur see?”

“No.” Merlin looked around again. Anxiety flared up within himself. “I haven’t seen him since we were with Gaius and you before the battle. Where is he?”

“He and Gwen disappeared. A couple of smugglers reported that the Southrons took their supplies and them. Morgana was nearby. So were her men. How do you know you weren’t seen?” she pressed the point.

“I used an aging spell to disguise myself. To the knights and anyone looking, an eighty-year old man with a long white beard and hair defended the Princess and the others. And for the record, Princess Mithian said the same thing before I did it,” he assured her. 

“Well it’s good that someone looks out for you. And she’s willing to keep your secret?” She offered the water skin to him. Another glance around made sure nobody was listening to their conversation. 

“She seems to be.” His mind brightened at the mention of Mithian. “She respects me as a person not just as a tool or servant.”

“That’s what I got from talking to her. I wonder though if that would be the case in Camelot or her own kingdom? Merlin, be careful. She’s bright, pretty and wants to be your friend. Still it isn’t that black and white.” She rubbed his arm. 

“I know. Being at Camelot’s court taught me about that. Still Princess Mithian’s already put her neck out for me more than once. She saved my life. She respects my secret. Apparently Nemeth tolerates magic. A magical lion named _Malodius_ serves there. He’s kind of my protector,” he explained.

“Protector? And how do you know his intentions? Merlin, take care,” she insisted.

“Because he owed Father a life debt.” He shrugged. 

“Owed…your father? How? What did…?” She stared at her son. Incredulity numbed her reasoning for several heartbeats. She gaped. She’d only known Balinor for a season. There were some things she knew. Still Balinor had remained a mystery on a great many other fronts. “How would he have known a creature like that?”

“He was complicated.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Right up until he died.”

She scoffed, “Merlin, you never knew your father. He disappeared from here. None of us have seen him since.”

“Arthur and I met him in a cave far from here. Father helped to take care of Arthur. He gave me some answers.” Merlin patted her hand. “His last thoughts were of us, Mother. He still cared about you.”

She frowned. “I wish he had stayed or asked me to go with him. I would have.”

“He didn’t want a life on the run for you or me. I told him what you did. I just wish we’d all had longer together,” Merlin lamented. “The Purge took the life and fight from him. I can well imagine how it felt to lose everything. Dealing with Uther was hard.”

“And still he allowed you a life at court. Merlin, that is far better than this! I sent you there for protection and the opportunity for a better life!” she argued. “Not everything is the way we want it. Still we have to do what’s right.”

He frowned. He didn’t want to talk against her. “Of course I know that. It’s just that I shouldn’t have to hide who I am.”

“Merlin, I can’t believe you just said that. They will kill you because of that. I won’t allow it. Gaius said he’d protect you. I wanted a better life for you. Why is that so hard to understand?” Hunith rubbed her forehead. Seeing Mithian standing just to their right, she stopped herself. She bowed. “Princess Mithian, I didn’t see you.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Mithian smiled. “I appreciate how much you care about Merlin. I wish though he would care more about himself sometimes.”

He ground his teeth. “Princess.”

“That is just what I tried to tell him. Thank you,” Hunith expressed. “Merlin has so much more opportunities at court than he would here. Surely you know that.”

Mithian rubbed her chin. Her mind considered a proper response. Granted most royals and nobles wouldn’t have cared how they responded to Hunith (that is if they did at all). Still she wasn’t just any noble. “He has opportunities. Certainly no one works harder or cares more than he does. Still Merlin has a point as well. Intrigue always looms within a royal court. Nothing is ever what it seems. You think that is paradise. I think that there’s a lot to be said about being here as well. Perhaps you weren’t born a noble in status. Still, Lady, you are noble in heart and bearing. Don’t doubt yourself.”

Hunith arched an eyebrow. She turned to him. Disbelief plastered itself across her face.

Merlin nodded. “Princess Mithian means that. She’s been a friend and more. All she asks is that I respect her as much as she does me.” He smiled. “If we can all do that, who knows what can happen?”

“Merlin, I know what she said before. Still she’s a Princess. You’re a peasant and a servant. You should take care,” Hunith advised.

“Arthur has knighted men for much lesser deeds, Hunith.” Mithian patted him on the arm. “I believe there are those who recognize Merlin’s true worth. We will speak to him on the matter.”

“Princess, I have to be at court. Arthur needs protection. You see what happened here when I wasn’t watching,” Merlin argued.

Mithian snorted. “Yes, Merlin. You are the Protector of Camelot. Forgive me but Sir Leon is the first knight of the realm. Perhaps you might want to take a more active role? Then we can work within the system to bring change. All of us.” Seeing Doubt blossom on their faces, she continued, “The supporters of the Purge are dead or elders. Patience will bring us what we need. Cedric and Uther are gone. Sir Percival will rule Mercia. Blancheflor will advise him to accept sorcerers. Gwen will do the same for Arthur. Even Morgana could be seen to favor this position. The Amazons do not recognize Uther’s laws. My father allows magic for good purposes in Nemeth. Morgana does all of this to bring back the old ways. King Bors is amenable as well in Gaul. Change is coming.”

“I want to believe that, Princess. I just worry,” Hunith insisted.

“As do I. Even if a certain person is stubborn and thickheaded,” Mithian concurred with a teasing barb at the end.

“And how far is your kingdom from Camelot, Princess?” Hunith looked to Merlin and then to Mithian again.

“We share a common border. As I said before the battle, Whitgate is but a hundred miles from Camelot’s walls. It is a long day and a half’s ride. I tell Merlin that if he wishes, he could go to Whitgate. He could be in the royal household there. Nemeth is Camelot’s supporter in all things. Father wants that. I want that. And if Arthur needs aid, we can be there quickly,” Mithian clarified. 

“I’m Arthur’s man though. I can’t just leave. I….” Merlin protested.

“Again if Arthur stays within the law, there can be a way.” Mithian locked eyes with him. “I believe in you. You believe in me. We can make this work. After today, there’s no further doubt. You have earned your freedom. You can do more for Arthur than just being his servant. Please. For Britannia.” She squeezed his hands. “For us.”

“For….?” Hunith stared at her. Even if she’d seen the signs earlier, she still couldn’t believe Mithian’s feelings. “Could it really be?”

“As Gaius said before, Arthur will ignore it. He wants me there. He’s King,” Merlin doubted. “It’ll mean war if you push it.”

“Perhaps. Merlin, I respect your position. I offer a more effective way for you to do it. And yes, I am serving my own position. You are the only man who respects me for me. You’ve proven yourself. That is all that matters.” Mithian bit her lip. “I know you have to give due consideration to this. Still think what it would be like to be Arthur’s fellow ruler and brother in arms? You could do more and be more. You could still help those in need. I…well…” She bowed her head.

“I know. I want those things too. I just want to protect Arthur. That’s my destiny, Princess,” he reminded her (again).

“Then do so. But do it from Nemeth as a fellow ruler. Be with someone who treasures who you are. I don’t care about the political advantage you offer. I care about you.” Mithian kissed him on the cheek.

“Wow. I….” Merlin almost fell against the nearest wall. His legs felt numb. His heart skipped several beats. Hope whispered of Confidence and Strength in his ear. Opportunity pitched its case to his mind. He glanced to Hunith. Immediately he knew the elder woman deserved so much more than the sleepy village and its hard life. He imagined how Hunith could have a better life within Nemeth’s castle. He looked to Mithian. He recognized that she offered him a package deal. She wanted to include mother and son in the bargain.

And in return? All she wanted was love and respect for her kingdom, father and herself.

“Excuse me. I…umm…think Gawain needs me.” Merlin rushed off. His mind struggled with those concepts.

Hunith shook her head. She struggled to wrap her mind around Mithian’s words and attitude. Words couldn’t sum up how she felt about the latter’s impromptu proposal. _Could it be that Merlin is worthy? Why would King Arthur hold him back?_

“I’m sorry, Hunith. I don’t mean to push. I just want Merlin to have what he’s earned. He’s so underappreciated,” Mithian apologized. “Thank you for being such a great mother for him. I imagine it wasn’t easy.”

“At times no. Merlin though has always had a good heart and work ethic. You’ve seen that. I am humbled by the offer. Thank you for the kindness.” Hunith bowed.

“I mean it. Please, Hunith, you don’t have to do that.” Mithian smiled. “And thank you for your hospitality. Now shall we find another task needing to be done? There’s much to be done. Rank be tossed out for such things, Good Lady. What’s next for us to do?”

Hunith nodded in appreciation. Much as was the case with Arthur years earlier, she could see how much Mithian respected all people regardless of rank. In addition to the words and earlier observations, she knew that Mithian loved Merlin and wanted nothing more than to be with him. “We can clear some damage over there?”

“Then that is what we’ll do.” Mithian nodded and followed her lead.

_If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up! Hunith sighed. Merlin, if the opportunity comes, take it!_

One could hope…..


	19. Blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin deals with his wishes and wants. The women in his life have a few words to say as well....

Chapter 18 

With everyone’s help, repairs and rebuilding went quickly. Collaboration motivated knights to work alongside other nobles and peasants alike. Representatives of different kingdoms raised beams and thatched roofs. They repaired pens, dug a second well and patched walls. They talked and made the occasional humorous aside.

In such moments, Albion seemed closer to the surface. Much more so than the words in dusty tomes and dreaded prophecies, the shared dream bubbled to the fore. With lightning pace, the tasks were completed. Bonds were forged.

In facing the nightmare, perhaps Hope could prevail?

 

****

 

[Sunrise—Two Days After Previous Chapter]

Merlin secured Gaius’ last herbal pouch onto a horse’s saddle. Indecision tore at him. Granted he felt committed to dealing with Morgana and restoring Arthur to the throne. He liked watching everyone working together toward the common good. Still he remained torn. He wanted Camelot and his current life. Fighting for Ealdor and helping in the rebuilding activities kindled memories of his old life. And yet, Mithian’s promise of a better future beckoned to him as well. His eyes looked toward the brightening sky overhead.

_Sol_ streaked the skies overhead beckoning Change’s ever present process. Shafts of light cut at Nocturne’s backdrop. Crimsons, golds and rouges bled down across the landscape. Roosters stirred and in turn did the same with their early morning calls. The old day was done. The new one was starting.

Quite the crossroads to be sure…..

Merlin admired the view. As a boy, he’d risen and did chores at this time no matter the season. He could feel the peace and tranquility of nature and the earth. He loved to observe the birds and animals be they in the pens, on the woods’ edge or overhead. It calmed his jangled nerves. “A bloody mess this is.”

“Following others’ agendas does that, Merlin.” Freya stepped into view from behind a hut. She smiled. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Merlin bit his lip. Despite her role and vows, his heart felt yet another divide. While he cared for Mithian, he still felt warmly for her as well. “Freya, I….”

“Merlin, it’s all right. Thank you for being so caring. I appreciate it. Trust in the goddess. Everything proceeds according to her plan,” she assured him. She surveyed the village. Her eye twinkled at him. “I can see why this appeals to you. It’s simple and uncomplicated. We’re on the edge of nature. If things had gone differently, it could’ve made a good home for us.”

“Freya, I wish things had been different. I should have saved you. We could have….” 

She nodded. “I know. I wish things had been different too. In a perfect world, we’d be right here. We’d have raised swine and cows. We’d take care of your mother and raise a family. We’d grow old together.” Her eyes shone into his. Lament’s tears sparkled in the early light. 

“Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?” He took his handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. 

“Duty has a way of guiding us, Merlin. Can a ship truly sail smoothly against the wind? Can a wolf exist without the pack?” She shrugged. “We were called for something greater. We inspire each other. We support each other. Still our paths are parallel at best. We have greater tasks than what awaits us here…as appealing as that would be. I am the High Priestess of Avalon. I cannot be tied to one man no matter how wonderful and loving he is.” She grinned. “And you are those things.”

“And you know my road?” he wondered.

“Perhaps but the journey is yours to take. Discoveries and growth are yours to experience.” She chuckled. “Oh you think you’re so clever to try and get that out of me. Still you helped set me on my path. I’ll nudge you a little on yours.”

“Mine? I know my way is to serve Arthur,” he presumed.

She pursed her lips. “Is it? Maybe. What you need to ask yourself is this. Are you doing it for Duty’s sake or Comfort’s? We can fight and stay where we are. Still the universe moves us where it wants us to go. Seems it wants you to go a certain way.” She rubbed his shoulder. “A certain Princess thinks the world of you. She’s opening the door.”

“Freya, I can’t just do that!” he argued.

She ground her teeth. She counted to ten. “No you can’t just do that. Still you can be patient. Follow Duty’s call and your heart as well. Arthur has to grow as well. You have bigger tasks beyond Camelot. That I will tell you. You’re you for a reason.”

“And you are the one to kick me in the arse?” He smirked.

“Kind of goes with the territory for stubborn Warlocks. Don’t worry. I’ll be around. Still I can’t be what you need.” She sighed heavily. “A final battle has to be waged before the transitions can start.”

“Camelot,” he realized.

“That and other things. Sir Percival has his hands full. Arthur has changes to accept on several fronts. And Morgana herself has a choice. How each of you does could affect all. For now though, follow your heart. Don’t hold back on my account. Princess Mithian is my friend. If I can’t be there, I want her to be. She’ll care and keep your rear in line.” She snorted. “A divine feat to be sure.”

“Oh really?” He looked at her.

“Really.” She giggled. Her heart danced. For another brief instant, she shared his wish. Then Reality brought her back to their current point. “Just promise me something?”

“If I can,” he agreed.

“Promise me you won’t let Arthur weigh you down. He’ll always be there. You will always need each other. Still it won’t be easy. I can’t say for sure. Still you two will have your trials. Be ready,” she advised.

“And if I don’t have him or Camelot?” 

“Then something will always present itself. Seems it already has. We are part of a greater world of magic, Merlin. _Malodius_ , Aithusa and Kilgarrah share that. Morgana should be reminded of that as well. Others want to share this with us. The goddess desires this.” Freya opened a portal. “Just consider that, Merlin.” She vanished into it. _Be happy. Live together with those who care about you._

_Live together with those who care. I’m doing that now,_ Merlin pondered.

_You can always include those of us who want that,_ Mithian informed him. She stepped into view. “Good morning. That priestess wasn’t Ninane. Who was she?”

“Her name’s Freya. She’s the High Priestess for Avalon. I knew her before,” Merlin explained. “I freed her from a bounty hunter. She was just a druid girl. Still she was cursed. She would turn into a demon under the moonlight. Arthur and the knights killed her. I saw her to Avalon and then made sure she was properly sent off to the Other Side.”

Mithian nodded. She heard his voice catching. She could see his eyes bowing. “She must have been something special. Is that why you are hesitant to open your heart now?”

“Hesitant…?” he wondered.

“Her death affected you. She must have been truly special,” she assessed.

“She was. And to think she still wants what’s best for me.” He looked to Mithian. “She told me to consider my opportunities not just where I am now.” He grinned. “She approves of you.”

“Oh? She does?” She arched an eyebrow. Her heart relaxed. “Glad to know that. I guess that leaves Arthur. Doesn’t it?”

“And Gaius. Hopefully they’ll loosen up.” He saw the others leading horses and lugging supplies toward the western meadow. “Seems it’s time to go.”

“Seems so.” Mithian frowned. Back to the fray. I was making progress. “I hope your mother will be there. I wanted to thank her for her hospitality in person.”

“I’m sure she will be.” Just then he spied Hunith coming toward them. “There she is now! Mother!”

“Merlin, there you are! I knew you wouldn’t just leave without saying good bye,” Hunith realized.

“Of course not.” He embraced the older woman tightly. He relaxed. For a brief heartbeat, he could envision Freya’s fantasy. Then he realized it wasn’t for them. “Princess Mithian and I had some things to discuss before we met up with the others.”

“I imagine you do.” Hunith smiled. Her eyes sparkled. “It seems you two have something here. Don’t ignore it.” Seeing his surprise, she put her hands up to cut him off. “Merlin, you have to do what’s best for yourself. Normally I’d have my suspicions of any noble. I’d think she’d want to use you and nothing else. Fortunately this isn’t the case.” She turned to Mithian. “Thank you for caring.”

“Thank you for accepting me, Lady Hunith.” Mithian curtseyed before Hunith. “Perhaps you might one day take me up on my invitation? There is a place for you in Whitgate.”

“Perhaps. Until then I have my place here.” Hunith exhaled sharply. “Be patient with Gaius and King Arthur. They want to protect you, Merlin, in their own ways. They count on you as well. Just watch out for yourself.”

“I will, Mother. You too,” Merlin promised.

“Always. Just take care of each other,” Hunith insisted. “Come. I think the others await you both.” She started toward the meadow.

“It’s time, isn’t it?” Merlin asked Mithian. He wanted to stay there. He wanted her in that place with him. How he wanted it to be so….

“It is. Still we can make our Paradise if we both believe. Patience will make it so.” Mithian squeezed his hand. Her lips kissed _Amor’s_ imprint onto his cheek. “We walk the path and do what we must.” 

Merlin led the horse toward the meadow. He shot his Princess occasional looks. He wanted to believe in that dream.

If only it could be so….


	20. Coalition Moves Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Understandings are reached. Tensions rise. Hunith, Mithian and Gaius get their viewpoints in where Merlin's concerned. Meantime Percival has an important decision to make where Blancheflor's concerned.

Conclusion [A Turn of the Hourglass Later—Meadow South of Ealdor]

The morning warmed slightly. A breeze picked up out of the south rustling hair and swaying grass alike. The clouds floated serenely through the sky. _Sol_ ascended toward his midday perch. A few birds sang. Others warbled back in response.

Seemed like a perfect day to set off on a venture…at least on the surface…..

 

*****

 

Percival sat astride Cedric’s former steed. His piercing gaze surveyed the field. While Pride swelled in his breast due to the growing collaboration, he puzzled over the effect of it all. He noted the splitting of allegiances among most of them. Gawain talked and joked with the Nemethian knights. Merlin waited on Mithian, his mother and helped Gaius as best as he could manage. The Mercians struggled with (what they hoped was) a temporary insubfeudation to Camelot. Even he wondered how he could be a King when he still owed Arthur allegiance as a knight and vassal.

It was truly a mess….the whole of it….

_We struggle to hold onto our identities against the storm. At what point do we accept what will be for the Greater Good?_ He inspected his own sur coat and badges. Much as later medieval English kings would do, his colors reflected both Camelot and Mercia. His mind remained split between both worlds. But that was for the present. He glanced down at the pouch against his right hip. _When this is over, Arthur will release me. Then I can do my duty in other ways._

“What is it, Percival?” Blancheflor asked.

He smiled for her benefit. “Just a bit of wind and breeze. Nothing more.”

She frowned. “I appreciate your concern. You know I am no mere flower to be crushed by the slightest adversity. I am here for you.”

“You have our people. Arthur will demand my loyalty. Rodor will demand yours. And now I have this load to bear. The people of Mercia deserve no less,” he admitted. “They deserve to be ruled by someone whose only loyalty is to them and our new land.”

“And you will be that. King Rodor knows of our feelings for each other. Certainly he will allow me my leave to join you. Princess Mithian will speak to him on our behalf.” She placed her hand on his. “This burden of which you speak is not just yours, my Love. It is for us both. Your way is mine.”

Percival nodded. Appreciation sparkled in his eye for this fine woman. He picked her hand up. His lips brushed the back of it much as a feather might alight across it. “I know but the reminders are a welcome balm to my ears, heart and soul. We will get through this trial. Then my hand is yours and our people’s.”

“That’s so sweet. I….” After the words escaped her lips, she clapped her hands over them. Realization struck hard at her. “Are you asking?”

He reached into the aforementioned purse. From it he produced a gilt ring. “It isn’t much. I waited for you. I kept this safe for the only place worthy of it.” He cleared his throat. “Blancheflor, I realize we aren’t in your father’s garden. We don’t have wine or fine food worthy of a celebration. I just don’t want to wait until after the battle. I….”

She grinned. “Those things don’t matter to me. You’re asking me. I don’t care how or where it happens. Yes, Percival. I have always been your helpmate and companion. Now I will be your wife and Queen.” She kissed his cheek. Then she held her hand out.

Anxiety jarred him. His legs felt so numb that he almost fell from his horse. He rasped trying to get air into his lungs. Then he settled himself down. He slid the ring onto her hand. “For us, to complete our present duty and then toward Mercia.”

“As say I,” she concurred. She kissed him gently. “One more campaign then our lifetime.”

_Our lifetime._ Hope and Anticipation lingered in his heart. _If only things would go well._ Such was Faith’s providence or so it seemed….

 

****

 

Not far away, Gawain snorted at the sight of the proposal. He frowned knowing that his friend now had the ball and chain officially around his ankle. _His mind should be on the fight. Morgana ain’t exactly gonna be rolling out the welcome wagon for us. No more taverns for him. Now he’s got to wait on Blanche hand and foot!_ He made a face at that thought. 

“Now what ails you, Sir Gawain? Perhaps you might not have eaten that rye?” Britomart supposed.

“Stomach’s fine, Brit.” He glanced sideways at her. “Doesn’t Mith need something?”

“Merlin’s got everything under control.” She sighed. “These appearances are cumbersome. He shouldn’t have to play the servant to stay close to her.”

“Kind of the way it is at least for now,” he declared. “Of course he could do it super fast if you get my drift?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh he could. Then he’d pay for it. Do you ever consider the consequences of anything?”

“Of course I do! I just don’t have a snit over that stuff. You really need to lighten up. We could die out there,” he rebutted.

“We can do that each and every day. That doesn’t mean we party and wench our way through life. We have to be serious at some point,” she admonished.

“I am serious. I have my way of dealing with stuff. That may surprise you. I do care. I just don’t want my friends to be unhappy. Okay? Uther was an arse. Arthur’s a stuck up Princess. That’s why Morgana’s doing this. Now we have a mess to clean up. Percy’s sacrificing himself for his part. Merlin could deal with everything but he has to play the fool for everyone’s ego. Nobles are such pompous Prats,” he revealed. “I used to be one.”

She stared at him. “Arthur made you noble. I….”

“I was before that. Long story.” Gawain set his jaw firmly. Pain poked through his usual mask. “Not now. It rots.” He spurred his horse and headed back toward the main Nemeth contingent.

She shook her head. She’d suspected that Gawain had secrets and pain buried under the lighthearted act. Curiosity prodded to know more. Still Regret nagged at her. While she wanted to set him straight and ease the rough edges, cutting into his heart and stirring nightmares wasn’t part of the plan. 

Another agenda would press at her following the battle it seemed….

 

****

 

Merlin inspected Mithian’s saddlebag with a meticulous eye. He’d spared Britomart from her usual duties. Much as he would do for Arthur, he folded every piece of clothing. He made sure that her quiver was full. He watered her horse. He filled her water skins. If it was all he could do in the open, he’d do it and more for her. He patted the horse’s side gently. “Almost time.”

The horse neighed back at him.

He smirked. “You know, don’t you?” He rubbed the animal’s side. He looked longingly over his shoulder toward the Princess. _Some day._

_Have faith, Young One. I keep telling you that, Malodius_ reminded him. He padded through the tall grasses toward the Warlock. _You have more support amongst our numbers than you know._

_The nobles will never approve. Gaius and Arthur will nag me about duty. Kilgarrah will shrug off my feelings,_ Merlin presumed. _I have a court to help manage._

_For now. Change is coming whether the Pendragon wishes for it or not. Even if we restore Camelot to its former state of affairs, it will not be the same. Even the most constant of things eventually fall away under Age’s weight. You have changed, Merlin. You’re growing as a man and a sorcerer. Even in as short a time as we’ve known each other, you’ve come so far. Malodius_ glanced back toward the village. _Hunith is a fine woman. I can see why Balinor cared for her as he did._

_Thanks. I hope Princess Mithian can keep her promise. Mother deserves more than this!_ Merlin told the lion.

_If the Princess promised that, she will make sure of it. I can see no reason why King Rodor would refuse your mother a place at court. Of course that would mean that someone else would have to take his place in it. Does it not?_ The lion snarled slightly.

_No pressure there. Thanks,_ Merlin groused.

_Just reminding you of the bigger picture, Merlin. You wish to serve. So do so. How and where you do so is your choice. That’s all I’m saying. Think on that._ With that, _Malodius_ turned back toward the main Nemeth contingent.

Merlin scratched his head. The different arguments muddled his thinking. Frustration burned through him. _Why is it so hard? I just want to serve and make others happy._

The horse whinnied. His nose gently nudged Merlin’s arm.

“At least you’re on my side. You know I care. Wish everyone else did,” Merlin expressed. He patted the horse’s flank. “Thanks.” He noted Gaius hustling over. He could see the Eyebrow already raised and the eyes narrowed. _Now what?_

“Merlin! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Gaius scolded. “You should be with us I can’t find our things. Do you know where they are?”

“I am. I’m tending to the Princess’ horse. Britomart’s keeping Gawain out of trouble. I packed the herbs and equipment. They’re already on my horse,” Merlin explained. “Sorry we haven’t talked since the battle. I’ve been taking care of Mother, the villagers, the knights and Princess Mithian.”

Gaius’ expression eased ever so slightly. He’d heard stories about the old sorcerer who singlehandedly took down a Mercian patrol with a wave of his hand. While he wouldn’t do so in the open, he made a note to himself to speak with Merlin about being mindful of the bigger picture. Magic and the budding relationship with Mithian meant trouble. Risk was always a part of life at court. And to him, it seemed that Merlin was going to throw everything away for a fleeting moment in time….

…much as the Warlock was about to with Freya a decade earlier….

“Everything’s working out. Focus on getting Camelot back and keeping people alive in the process,” Merlin told him.

“Including you. Merlin, think! You can’t reveal who you are. Think if anyone saw you! No we can’t risk it,” Gaius lectured.

“Nobody did. At least they didn’t see me. Don’t worry. I know about that,” Merlin assured him. Somehow Patience kept a tight rein on his temper. “Princess Mithian has been a good friend. Since Arthur isn’t here, why not serve her?”

“At least you’re staying out of trouble,” Gaius conceded. He shook his head. “Britomart should do her tasks. I could’ve used your help. Keep that in mind as well while you’re doing your service.” He ambled away toward his own horse.

Merlin frowned glumly. He didn’t need his sensitivity to pick up on Gaius’ disapproval. _He means well but it’ll be all right! Change has to happen! Not everyone’s going to like it but that’s the way it has to go. Doesn’t it?_ He nearly jumped from the hand on his shoulder.

“Is everything all right, Merlin?” Mithian asked. She’d witnessed Gaius and Merlin’s discussion at a distance. Still she wouldn’t pry. She’d allow him to volunteer that information on his own.

“Gaius doesn’t like how I’m doing Britomart’s work. He thinks I should be doing other things,” Merlin complained. 

“Other things?” She snorted. “You saved us from a group of knights. You’ve been tending to your friends and neighbors nonstop. You made sure everything is packed and in order. You worry about our welfare. What else can you do?” She rolled her eyes.

He bowed anxiously. “Princess, he thinks I should be around him more.”

She rubbed her forehead. “I understand he counts on you. Still we are all sharing resources and collaborating to free Arthur and the others. Part of that means I can call on you when needed.” She smirked.

He sighed.

“Master Gaius should have more faith. I know about appearances. You wait on me and act the part of the servant. We act properly. We do nothing else.” She shook her head. “If everything’s in order, you should get to your horse. We leave shortly.”

“Yes, Princess.” He nodded respectfully. Then he headed back toward his own horse. He shook Gaius off. He found Hunith waiting by his horse. “Mother?”

“I wanted another hug before you left,” Hunith requested. She embraced him. “It’s all right. I know.”

“Mother, I….” Merlin started.

“It’s all right. One day they’ll understand. Just promise me you’ll be careful,” Hunith requested. “As we spoke about before.”

“I know,” Merlin affirmed.

Hunith looked over his shoulder toward Mithian. _Just take care please! Don’t get yourself or my son killed._ She squeezed him tightly. “You should go. They’re waiting.”

“You keep yourself safe,” Merlin told her.

“I’d say the same of you. No unnecessary risks. Understand?” Hunith reminded him.

“I’ll try,” Merlin agreed even if he’d do the exact opposite. He kissed her forehead. Then he got up on his horse. He moved to his mentor’s side. Despite that his eyes remained riveted on the front of the line and the two royals there. _I should be up there. Still can’t make too many waves._

“Move out!” Mithian instructed. “We need to get as far over the border as we can by nightfall!” She spurred her horse and galloped toward the south. She motioned to the rest of the company to follow.

As one, the massive company flowed in that direction. Their horses’ hooves beat like thunder across even the damp ground. Purpose directed them toward Camelot and their goal. They had battles to fight both immediate and in the future. Change would ride on their coat tails.

Hunith watched them disappear from sight. Worry numbed her thinking. She frowned. While she was glad Merlin had found someone, she wondered how that would affect things. She pondered how being under Camelot’s rule would affect things for Ealdor. Finally how would matters resolve themselves?

Those were pressing questions. First though would come a siege. Then some answers would begin to present themselves.

As in all matters, Time would reveal truths at its own pace after all….

 

THE END (for now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, Everyone! Hope you’re enjoying the series. I have some ideas where to go from here. Suggestions though are welcome. We still have to link up to “Mistletoe” and “Princess Faerie”. I’ll consider the ideas. Thanks!]


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